Finding Asylum
by Only If You Wish It
Summary: Set post-FAYZ. After the dome came down, Drake was swept away to court and then placed in California's Psychiatric Facility, where he's been left to rot for the last year. A nearby school's community assignment, however, might reintroduce him to a familiar face. No "Light" Spoilers.
1. Chapter 1

**And now for a super long intro Author's Note! Yay!**

**And yes, I know most of you will skip all of this. How? Because I usually skip long ANs myself. But just know, there's some important info in here. Somewhere.**

**Okay, alright. It has been an obscenely long amount of time since I've put anything up here on good ol' FF. My writing style has changed _significantly_. In case you recognize my name, I have posted two renditions of similar plotlines before about Drake having a sister in the FAYZ. However, I've deleted both of those for three reasons: one, I had no real plot; two, they sucked; three, I hate OCs now. They just strike me as Mary-Sues, even when well done, which mine weren't. **

**So!**

**All that's behind me. Please don't hold my immature need for Drake to have a sister (idk why I really liked that plotline...) against me. I promise I'm sticking to only characters in the book.**

**Another note: this is set _after_ the FAYZ. However, I haven't read _Light_ yet, so there will be no spoilers from that. Also, please don't write anything about it in a review; I _really_ don't want to read spoilers, but with college I simply don't have the time to read right now. **

**Anyways...**

**I'm not going into detail about how the FAYZ ended exactly because, well, I don't know and I'm not that creative. Sue me (please don't!). **

**One more thing (I know, you just want me to get on with the story at this point): as mentioned, I am in college. I don't always have the time to write as much as I'd like. Good for you guys (if you like this, anyways), I've already written a hefty portion of this FF, but, keep in mind, it's not finished yet. I'm posting this now to see if you like it. If you do, I'm planning to continue writing it and releasing the rest of it gradually.**

**And disclaimer! I don't own _Gone_, it's plot, characters, or anything else related to it. I own no recognizable brand names or familiar looking quotes or anything at all really. I'm a college student, remember? I own an education! (Well, in the process of owning one...)**

**Anywho, warnings: This fic is rated T for strong language, mild blood and violence, and mild romance. This is also a warning for potential OOC. The author of this fic assumes reasonable ability to play with the characters personalities on the basis that it's set in the future and the characters have grown-up/matured (somewhat).  
**

**I welcome criticism; how else will I get better? I neither support nor hate flames; I'm not going to say I enjoy being told my stories suck but it's only going to upset me minimally. Then I'll delete your comment and move on with my life. Feel free to mention any typos in reviews or PMs. I hate those and want them all sifted out of my story, though I have no beta so it's all on me to catch them all. I try my best, guys. Also let me know about anything else that doesn't make sense. Though I'm going to tell you right now not to expect realistic psychiatric asylum situations. I do not know how asylums work, therefore I take writer's liberty to make them however I want. **

**I won't beg or mention it again, but reviews make me ignore homework and focus on writing more for you. I'm easy to manipulate and love it when people enjoy my writing. **

**And now, _finally_, the first new FF of the new Only if you wish it...begins!**

**Chapter One**

The California Psychiatric Facility. That was where he'd been sentenced. Found guilty of murder in one account—Brittney—assisted murder in two accounts–-Bette and Mike Famer—and attempted murder in over a dozen accounts. He was to remain under high security indefinitely or until the doctors pronounced him sane and safe to reintroduce to society, which basically meant indefinitely also.

"…unbelievable that he's managed to…"

"…does nothing but glares at everything with this hate in his eyes. It's like he wants to kill everything…"

"…not responsive to any treatments, therapy, or counseling. I just don't know what to do…"

"…he's like the devil himself. Already put two orderlies in the hospital…"

Drake heard what they said, knew how they talked about him, but didn't really care. His baleful eyes fell to his right arm—right stump—and he flinched, jerking his head up and forcing himself to stay awake. His whip hand. They'd cut off his whip hand. He hated them. He hated them worse than he hated Diana or Caine or Sam…well, maybe not more than them, but more than those others he hated. His mother, his father, Dekka, Brianna, Jack. Hated these doctors more than them.

"M-mr. Merwin?" A voice stuttered. He ignored it, inwardly seething at the company. He didn't want people tending to him. Forcing him to interact. He hated people. "Time t-to go to the activity room." The nurse tried to be cheery, she really did, but when those freezing grey eyes turned to her, scorching her with the massive amount of hate just oozing from his orbs, she flinched as if he'd struck her. Only seventeen and yet a worse nightmare than she'd ever encountered. Than nearly anyone had ever encountered.

Drake stood from his bolted down bed, the chains connecting his feet clanging together as he grinded his teeth together. He hated that sound. The chains were court mandated. He would have been in a Juvenile Delinquent Center—the prosecutor had been trying to get him put in the California prison—but his lawyer—some rich guy that his mother had paid for—had, somehow, got the jury to give into his plea of insanity—which his fancy lawyer had had to beg him to do. Thus he was shipped off to this hellhole. He would almost rather be in prison. At least there everyone wasn't doped or high all the time.

Drake followed the nurse down the hall, always noticing the guards walking behind him. He was considered a high risk, especially after lashing out and knocking two orderlies out within his first week. All that had gotten him with a higher dosage of sedative and near-constant guards. At this point, his sedative was so high he could barely manage to stay conscious after being given a shot.

Drake sat in the window, glaring at the parking lot below and ignoring the other 'patients' around him. Most of them, he knew, were actually insane and not criminals. They had eating disorders or drug additions or something. He knew this because there wasn't many in chains like him. He supposed he'd be in handcuffs if he'd had two hands.

Suddenly the door opened and some twenty kids around his age wandered in, looking nervous and out of place, some offering smiles while others looked bored out of their minds. An elder man came through them, walking over to a nurse with a slight smile, telling her something. She nodded, before turning around to speak to the patients.

"May I have your attention everyone?" she asked loudly. People mostly got quiet. "Mr. Leon's psychology class is here to speak with you. They are doing this for volunteer hours as well as a grade so please be respectful and kind." By that she meant, "Mess up and you'll be getting knocked out with meds." Drake growled under his breath, glaring at the teens now mixing in with the patients, some still wavering at the door.

"I want to go back to my room," Drake ordered, glaring at the nurse in front of him. She winced at his tone, but stood firm.

"Everyone's supposed to stay here with the students, Mr. Merwin," she stated. "It might be helpful for you to interact with those your own age."

"The only way I'd 'interact' with them would be if I could break their bones until they were begging me to kill them," Drake muttered lowly in her ear. She jerked back, pale-faced, trying to keep from trembling.

"I-I…" she stuttered, not knowing how to respond. Drake was glaring at her with those icy hate-filled eyes and she was finding it hard to think. All that was running through her mind was fear and the urge to run. Run far away from this predator standing right in front of her.

"You know you can't go back to your room," the doctor warned, coming to the nurse's aid. She breathed a sigh of relief, scuttling behind him as Drake's glare went to him.

"What happens if I end up hurting one of these _precious_ visitors you have?" Drake threatened lowly.

"You won't," the doctor ordered. "Or you'll be put in solitary and I'll up your dosage of sedative. Again."

Drake huffed, a deep grumbling in his chest as he felt his hand twitch. He hated the doctor. He wanted to strangle him slowly, watch the fear in his eyes, watch his life fade. Instead, though, Drake took his threat seriously, stomping back to his window-seat, glaring at the window, emanating enough hostility to keep any sane person away. Of course, he was in an insane asylum…

"Holy shit," a voice muttered, awed, behind him. He turned to glare at them, easily spotting the wide-eyed girl before him.

Her dark hair and eyes were of the same shade, her locks long and sleek, shining in the light. She was probably around his age, or appeared to be. Her face wasn't unattractive and her body was of perfect proportions. Oddly enough, Drake was having pangs of familiarity runs through him.

"Drake," the girl whispered.

"Who're you?" he growled, eyes unforgiving.

"You honestly don't remember me?" she asked. Her face was no longer surprised, only mocking, teasing. Who was she to mock him? No one had the guts to…

Drake tensed, eyes widening of their own accord. "No," he refuted. She smirked, waving her fingers at him.

"Hi ya, Drake," she teased, taking a seat across from him. Drake following her every move with disbelief and hatred.

"Diana," he hissed. "How the hell…" he trailed off, angry and loathing, but curious to know how she got here.

"I'm taking a psychology class in the high school about three blocks from here," she explained, flicking her hair. "We're going to be coming here every Friday."

"You're kidding," he grumbled.

"Not in the least," she refuted. Then she grinned. "Guess it'll be just like old times. Except you'll be doped up on meds and I'll get to leave in a few hours."

"Where's Caine?" Drake asked, ignoring her comment.

"Oh, he was sent to another school," Diana waved off. "His 'parents' drug a very unhappy Caine to New York. He calls and writes occasionally, but I don't see too much of him."

"After all that love you shared," he sneered. She sneered back.

"Actually, he still claims that. I have my doubts, of course. The FAYZ damaged us all so much, we'll never be fit for someone normal, yet we could never really be with someone who'd been through it too. Just knowing what he…I…we did…" she trailed off, holding her fingers to her lips, looking down. "It's been a while since I've talked about it," she murmured.

"You should see my therapist," Drake drawled. "I'm sure he'd have a field day."

"I've already done my therapy, thank you," Diana stated briskly. "Not doing yours too. Besides, you need it more. You haven't changed a bit."

"Oh, trust me," Drake growled, his eyes sucking in all sparks or flames and emanating such an empty, cold hatred. Diana's felt her breath catch. "I've changed." His right arm, which he'd been subconsciously keeping from her view, caught Diana's eyes and she looked at it, staring in disbelief.

"They…they took off your arm…whip…thing?" she asked in shock.

"Not there, is it?" Drake spat. He definitely didn't like talking about that.

"I'm just…surprised," she revealed. Her eyes went back to his, unflinching now under his hate-filled gaze. "You have changed," she noted. "For the worse. And I didn't think that was possible."

Drake didn't comment, only glaring at her.

"You always hated therapists and psychologists," she continued analyzing him, looking around the room at the other patients. "And now you're surrounded by them all the time. This is probably hell for you," she thought aloud.

"And suddenly your life is perfect?" Drake seethed harshly.

"Not perfect, but I'm not eating boiled grass. I have electricity, I have water, and most importantly, I have adults that tell me what to do."

"Like that's something to be happy about," Drake grumbled, glaring at the guards, nurses, and doctors in the room.

"It is if you let it be," she corrected.

"Just shut up, Diana," Drake ordered with a low growl, looking back out his barred window.

"Contemplating offing yourself?" she asked, mildly serious.

"Contemplating throwing you out this window," he corrected.

"And I'd fall down and break my- Oh wait. There's bars on the window. Guess I wouldn't fall after all."

Drake sent her a baleful look. "You're not funny."

Diana smirked. "Maybe you need a sense of humor." Drake snarled. "And I'd suggest you get one, considering you'll have a whole semester to deal with my non-humor," she added mockingly.

"I hate you," Drake responded.

"The feeling's mutual," Diana nodded, sighing and brushing her hair through her fingers. Her eyes scanned the room, seeing the occasional drooling patient or leering male and subconsciously moved away from them, inching towards Drake. Like he'd protect her. She almost snorted at the idiotic thought.

Her eyes landed on a pack of cards. "Hey, want to play a game?" she suggested.

"Why would I want to do that?" Drake spat, now back to glaring at her. She shrugged.

"Face it, Drake. I'm here for another few hours; you're going to have to deal with me. Plus, I'd rather talk to the psycho I know than one of the drooling, insane perverts I don't. And since I have to do this for a grade…" she got up and went to snatch of the cards, coming back to sit across from Drake on the window seat and shuffling he cards. "I can't just blow it off."

"Or maybe you just want to do your report on someone you already have all the information on," Drake muttered, accepting his cards and somehow maneuvering them where he could hold them all and see them all with his one hand. He was forced to set them down and grab one card to discard. He wanted to glare at his right stump but didn't really want to lose control of himself at the moment. Not in front of Diana. Never in front of the witch.

"Why make it harder on myself?" Diana asked, drawing and humming a bit before discarding.

Drake didn't answer, and they continued playing for another few hours, silent for the most part with only occasional insults thrown in. It was the most peaceful Drake had acted in years.

"Where's Sammy-boy?" Drake thought to ask as Diana shuffled the cards for a seventh game of Rummy. They were evenly tied and this was going to settle it.

She shrugged. "I think he's an electrician somewhere…" she trailed off when she caught Drake's look of incredulity. She smirked. "Not really. He's around. He and the Genius are still together. They were all over the news for a while, but I haven't heard anything on them recently. People are getting over the whole FAYZ thing."

Drake hummed, laying down a set before eyeing his cards for which one he wanted to get rid of. "And the others?" he questioned lazily, only slightly interested.

Diana sighed, putting down her cards and counting on her fingers. "Brianna's going to enlist in the military soon as she's legal, I'm pretty sure. Dekka kind of fell of the radar, though I'm willing to bet she stays close to Sam. Jack's invented some major computer software antivirus thing or whatever. I don't speak nerd. I don't even think he goes to school anymore. Quinn and his family moved to Alaska. Orc-"

"_Alaska_?" Drake interrupted.

Diana smiled, flicking her hair. "Yeah, doesn't seem like something someone would do, does it?" Drake just shook his head. "Where was I? Oh, Orc. I think he's in some government facility; no one's heard from him since the day it all went down. Albert graduated earlier this year and was all over the news for some stock market genius scheme of his. Apparently he's one of the youngest businessmen in the country now. Guess the FAYZ was nice to someone, huh?"

Drake didn't comment, only laid out his cards to reveal he was out and had higher points than her. Diana scowled, but took up the cards away.

"Alright class; it's time to go," Mr. Leon was calling. Diana glanced in his direction and then back at Drake.

"Same time, same game?" she asked, standing and dropping the cards on another table. Drake shrugged.

"Not like I'm not going to be here," Drake pointed out bitterly, glaring at the window.

"You know, Drake, if you'd even just _pretend_ to go through with the therapy they might let you out. And I mean before you're legally a senior citizen," she added, winking at him as he glared.

"I'm not talking about my _feelings_ and shit," he grumbled.

"Fine; rot in here. Not like I want you loose on the streets anyways," she threw over her shoulder, leaving with her class. Drake glared at her the whole time she left, hating that what she'd said made sense. He didn't have to really go through with it. A long as he could convincingly pretend, he could get out of here. He could be free.

And then he'd go and kill every one of them that was making a mockery of him. Caine, Sam, Astrid, Brianna, Dekka, Orc—if he was even alive—Jack…

…and Diana. _Especially_ Diana.


	2. Chapter 2

**So, remember those warnings from before? Well, I was serious. Prepare for strong language and very not nice thoughts from Drake. And just saying, while I do considered this a 'Romance' genre fic, it is kinda dark. Ya know, 'cause it's Drake. I'm serious, people. Though...idk if I would judge the level of darkness based on this chapter specifically. This one's kinda a bit more intense the others...But anyways, just be aware that I am trying to keep the characters in character based on how I've portrayed them and, well, Drake's a psychopathic sadist. Needless to say, his thoughts and actions are not going to be nice.**

**Oh, and good news! I've portioned out all that I've written already, so I've get five chapters waiting to be spell-checked two or three more times and then all it'll take is some time and I'll release them! Yay!**

**And now that I've felt I've warned you enough, read on if you so wish.**

**Chapter Two**

"So, Drake, how are you feeling today?"

"Tepid," Drake drawled, slouched in his seat. The psychiatrist before him seemed surprised to have gotten an answer from the typically silent male.

"How so?" he asked, trying—and failing—to hold back his excitement.

"I'm not happy; I'm not pissed. So I'm freaking tepid. Problem?" Drake growled, annoyed. The man scribbled on his paper enthusiastically.

"No, no, of course not. So you're not happy or angry. Well, what would make you happy, Drake?"

"First, I said I'm not pissed," Drake corrected. "Second, do you really want to know what would make me happy, doc?" he asked, grinning disturbingly at the doctor with sick, shining eyes. The doctor visibly shuddered.

"Well, uh," the man stuttered before clearing his throat. "Why are you not 'pissed' as you claim? Did something happen today? Or maybe something didn't happen that usually does?" the man attempted.

"Nah, I'm just getting bored with this place," Drake growled, propping his elbow up on the table and holding up his head. "Nothing fun ever happens."

"'Fun' being someone getting hurt," the doctor questioned, though it was more of a statement. Drake scowled.

"'Fun' being something other than this everyday monotonous shit," Drake growled, glaring at the startled man. "Don't be putting words in my mouth, doc," he warned, voice enunciating the 'doc' in an almost taunt.

"O-Oh," the doctor began, scribbling something out before writing something else. He looked up at Drake seriously. "Well, we have activities patients can participate in as long as they remain amiable. If you would like you're welcome to join in on those."

"Cause I always wanted to paint a stupid flower or glue some pasta on a piece of paper," Drake mocked before scowling. "Look, I'm not a fucking retard. That arts-and-crafts shit is for three-year-olds."

"Well, what would you like to do?" the psychiatrist asked.

Drake grumbled under his breath, thinking. "I don't know. Give me a ball or something."

The doctor blinked, seemingly surprised. "Ball? You like sports?"

Drake sent him a deadpan look. "I am a guy," he stated, bored with the conversation already.

"Right," the doctor began, nodding and writing something down. He sent a smile towards Drake, which made the blonde scowl. "We can set it up for you to play basketball as long as you remain amiable. That means—"

"I know what it means," Drake cut off, glaring at him with cold eyes. "I told you I'm not a retard."

"Right," the doctor repeated, smiling nervously. "Well this has been a productive session, hasn't it?"

"Che," Drake answered as he stood and headed for the door, forcing himself to keep from cringing at the sound of the chains on his feet clinking together. The guards at the door automatically took their spots behind him, making his mood turn even sourer.

"See you tomorrow, Mr. Merwin," the psychiatrist called as Drake went out the door.

-**Break**-

It wasn't because of what she said.

Drake growled, shooting the orange ball at the basket and ignoring the awed looks of the few other patients they'd let onto the court as it went in with a swish. One hand or not, basketball was his sport.

He hadn't talked at that stupid session because of what Diana had said.

Drake snatched the ball, dribbling to a different spot on the three point line and shooting again. Another basket.

He'd just been bored and figured if he couldn't get away with hurting someone at the moment he might as well find some way to get out all this pent up frustration. Sports were acceptable; they'd let him play sports without stabbing him with some sedative-filled needle.

"Wow," one guy murmured in shock as Drake made two more baskets without even trying. His fist clenched as he forcibly kept his eyes from flickering over to him. He'd snap if he saw what was surely some stupid doe-eyed look on the other guy's face who was holding onto another ball, probably not even sure what to do with it.

It wasn't because of Ladris.

Drake kept telling himself this, but he only got more and more angry. Because it was because of her. He'd never have thought of just going along with the therapy until he could get out of here. It'd only occurred to him when she'd so _kindly_ pointed it out to him.

He clenched his teeth, moving further back and shooting. Another basket.

Frustration was eating him alive. And the worst of it was she wouldn't even be back until Friday so he'd have to wait until then to strangle her.

"How do you do that?"

Drake snapped, turning with a roar and chucking the ball in his hand at the other guy's face. He fell to the ground. "Shut the fuck up, you fucking retard!"

"Oh my!" a nurse yelped, eyeing the blood come from the other guy's nose as tears came to his eyes. He was scrambling backwards, away from the volatile blonde who was breathing heavily, fist convulsing. Drake spotted the blood that had appeared and grinned nastily, suddenly all too pleased with the violence, though it wasn't near enough.

"Security!" the nurse called, eyeing Drake like he might suddenly attack, which was a definite possibility. Drake didn't react as two heavier set men came into the room, moving towards him with purpose. Drake didn't fight them as they led him from the room, the nurse softly questioning the other boy as she tried to calm him down. Drake scowled, stomping from the room and feeling the urge to cause more bloodshed deep in his bones. He wanted to fight. He wanted to hit. He wanted some damn control back in his life.

Drake threw up his arm, slamming it into one of the guard's stomach and knocking the air from him. It had been really stupid of them to not return his restraints. He twisted around, using his momentum to smash his fist into the other guard's face. Then he turned and kicked at the first guard, knocking him to the ground while Drake followed, pummeling his face without mercy. Drake turned seconds later to see the other guard calling for backup. Roaring in rage, Drake leapt towards him, dropping his shoulder to pile-drive him. He grinned with sadistic glee when he heard the dull thud of the guard's head hitting the wall while the air was forced from his lungs. He threw the guard to the ground, kicking at his side and laughing when the man coughed up blood. Drake gave him a few more strategically placed kicks, breaking more than a few ribs for sure, before he heard the sound of the other guard rising to his feet. Drake threw a look over his shoulder, grinning toothily when he saw the bloodied guard panting, leaning against the wall and looking at Drake as if he was the spawn of Satan.

Drake stalked towards him slowly, grin ever widening. The guard's eyes went wide with fear, trying to moving away from the sadist. Drake reached forward and would have choked the life from him if it wasn't for the sudden prick on the back of his neck, followed by a crushing weight forcing him to the floor. Drake groaned as darkness overcame his vision, forcing him into unconsciousness.

-**Break**-

Drake glowered at the ceiling, shuffling his shoulders as he tried to get the blood circulation back to his one hand.

"I see you've awakened, Mr. Merwin," the deep voice of Dr. Raymond spoke. Drake didn't give him a response, instead moving to sit up with some difficulty. "Mind telling me why you attacked another patient and the guards?"

"Stupid retard pissed me off," Drake spat. Then he grinned disturbingly. "But the guards were just unlucky."

"I see," the doctor began. "I thought you would be happier being able to do something instead of just sitting bored. Didn't you like playing basketball?"

"Shut it," Drake growled, already reminders of who he'd had to listen to in order to get that privilege returning to his mind.

The doctor sighed. "Very well. Well you'll be remaining in solitary for three days," he informed him. "Are you going to behave if we remove the straitjacket?" he questioned seriously. Drake just stared at him. After a few moments, the doctor motioned for the guards to remove the restraint before they left Drake to himself. Drake scowled, glaring up at the ceiling and imagining killing Diana.

-**Break**-

"So how was your week?" Diana mocked, smirking as she took a seat across from the glowering Drake.

"Shut the hell up, Ladris," Drake growled.

"As eloquent as ever," she responded automatically. She'd ignored the many concerned glances that the staff had given her—and were still giving her—the moment she'd started to head towards where Drake was trying to glare a hole through the window. She didn't ignore the dark shadows around Drake's eyes, however. "Still having nightmares, Drake? What happened? Did someone give you a hug? Was it a teddy bear? Cute little kittens?"

"I said shut up, Ladris. I'm not in the mood to deal with your mouth today," he responded. "And I don't dream anyways."

"Ever?" Diana asked casually, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Never," Drake answered, an undertone of danger tainting his voice but Diana ignored it, already dealing the cards.

"Another weird thing about you," she noted, checking her cards while Drake swiped his up, maneuvering with his one hand to try to see them all. Diana hated to admit it but it was kind of disquieting to see the sadist without a limb. Not that she preferred him to have his whip hand.

"Weird. Right. I'm weird," Drake muttered, drawing a new card and then discarding.

"You are," Diana refuted idly, laying down a set of three with a grin before finishing her own turn. She looked up to meet Drake's eyes. "In a psychopathic sort of way," she added at his look. He rolled his eyes.

"Whatever, Ladris," he grumbled, causing Diana to study him a bit closer. Where was the usual hostility? Since when did Drake take anything without dishing it back out? She frowned thoughtfully, watching him scowl in frustration as he attempted to lay down four of his cards in order for a run.

He really did look exhausted. Her eyes scanned over his frame, noting how baggy his clothes seemed to be. Drake had never been a body builder, but he'd always had the obvious definition of muscle on his frame. Looking at him now, it was like he'd never left the FAYZ. He looked like he hadn't been eating. Plus, his skin had lost its tan, the paleness making the sleepless shadows on his face even more obvious. And while Diana hated to admit it, Drake had never been bad-looking; on the contrary, before she'd met either one of them to know their personalities, Diana had actually thought Drake had been more attractive than Caine. But now his hair was shaggily cut and his eyes fidgeted all over the place and overall he just didn't look his best.

"Quit staring at me," Drake ordered gruffly, glaring at her, "and take your damn turn."

Diana didn't say anything, just quietly grabbed a card and quickly finished her turn. When Drake didn't move, she looked up to see him still glowering at her with fire in his grey eyes. At least that hadn't changed.

"Don't pity me, Ladris. I mean it," he growled.

"I'm not pitying you," Diana refuted. "You deserve everything that happens to you."

Drake's glare didn't let up. "Then don't look at me like that."

"I was just noting how different you look," Diana responded, glaring a bit. "Not so grandiose, Merwin," she added, smirking as her eyes dragged up and down his frame mockingly.

Drake's teeth gritted and he clenched his fist, crumpling the cards in his hand. "Fuck you, Ladris," he hissed dangerously low.

"You wish, Merwin," she hissed back just as lowly, leaning closer subconsciously. "When's even the last time you've had sex? Or are you still a virgin?" she mocked. Drake's eyes flashed with his anger, his temper flaring as he growled like an animal. Diana smirked.

This, she admitted, she missed. She'd never met anyone she loved getting riled up more than Drake. He always reacted so violently, so vehemently, so intensely. She loved the feeling of playing with fire because that's what this was. Drake was a dangerous boy to play with, even more dangerous than fire really, and the hold he had on his sanity was even more tenuous than ever before.

"You don't know what you're talking about, Ladris," Drake snarled lowly.

"Don't I? Come on, Drake, you can admit it. You've never had sex before," she mocked, words as sweet as poison. She reached forward daringly, brushing his jaw with her fingers. She could feel the tightness there as he clenched his teeth even tighter, hand fisted on the edge of the table as his eyes flickered over to the nearest guard. He was contemplating attacking her, she knew. He might do it even though he knew he wouldn't be able to finish the job. She needed to back off for now.

"It's your turn," she commented, pulling away and looking back down at her cards. She looked up when Drake didn't move, raising a brow. "Your. Turn," she repeated slowly. Drake scowled but snatched up his cards, throwing one down without really looking.

They continued playing in silence, finishing three more games with Drake being the ultimate winner—once again—before Diana's teacher called that it was time for them to go. Just as Diana stood to go, Drake stood as well, reaching forward and snatching a lock of her hair, pulling her closer to him.

"I'm not a virgin, Ladris. I've had sex before, and I'd fuck you until you bled and screamed and begged me to stop," he hissed lowly right into her ear, the words and his warm breath making a shiver run down her spine and the hairs on her neck stand up on end.

It took her a moment before her mind finally process what he'd said, and then she jerked away from him, disgusted and disquieted. He grinned malevolently, waving his fingers at her in goodbye while she fought back a blush.

"See you next week, Ladris," Drake offered with a grin, clearly pleased with having shaken her up just a bit. She scowled before wiping off the expression and, trying not to let him see how much his threat had bothered her, she pursed her lips and blew him a kiss, putting as much disdain as she could into the gesture.

"Don't wait up, sweetheart," she called back, turning around so fast her hair wiped out behind her as she headed out the door. Drake glared at her back the whole time.

"Damn Ladris," he muttered to himself, shifting a bit in his seat and trying to ignore how the whole situation had mildly stirred a certain part of him. He hated to admit it, but he'd craved having someone around that he could go toe-to-toe with; he'd silently wanted for years for someone to come who wouldn't be afraid to stand up to him and fight him.

In the FAYZ, while Caine and Sam had been his real physical enemies, it had always been Diana he'd envisioned killing the most. It had always been her death he'd desired more than any other. And now those feelings were returning tenfold. He wanted to suffocate her. He wanted to watch the life drain from her eyes. He wanted to hear her scream and beg for her life and cry for mercy.

But now he wanted something else too. Now he wanted to trap her under him and force her to realize just how hopeless it was, just how powerless she was against him. He still wanted her to scream, but now he wanted it to be his name. He wanted her to beg him—_him_, Drake Merwin!—to give her enough pleasure to finish her off, to bring her to the edge and over, and then to kill her.

Drake smirked wickedly.

**-Break-**

The following Friday, as Diana walked into the typical room, her brows furrowed as she noticed the lack of her chosen school work. She walked over to one of the nurses.

"Excuse me, but where's Drake?" She really didn't think the last name was necessary.

The nurse's eyes widened slightly, though she recognized the girl before her as the one who usually sat and played cards with the boy. Considering he'd yet to attack her, she figured they must be close, so after checking to see no one else around, the nurse leaned forward to whisper, "He attacked another patient and, in the process, shoved another down some stairs and broke her arm. He's in solitary for another five days."

Diana's eyes barely batted, though she did pout minimally. She wasn't all that surprised, just put out that she didn't have her buffer to kill time with. As she liked to say, better the devil you know than the devil you don't. Plus, most of the other patients were pervy looking and sort of leering at her. She scowled. "Well, when he gets out will you tell him to quit screwing around? I need a good grade in this class. Plus, he's the devil I know," she added in a grumble. She eyed the nervous nurse. "And that should be a direct quote. Don't go summarizing me," she ordered. The nurse nodded, smiling slightly before moving to talk to another patient.

Diana sighed, eyeing the other prospective people she could spend her time with. She glowered, forcing herself to keep from having her features morph into disgust. These people where so not worth her time. Scowling, she stalked over to her and Drake's corner, sitting down and beginning a simple game of Freecell. She was so going to kill Drake.

-**Break**-

Drake glared at the doctor sitting in front of him. He'd just gotten out of solitary and had been immediately whisked into the 'interrogation' room.

"You know," the doctor began conversationally, watching Drake closely for any reaction. "It appears that girl you typically play cards with during the time with the students missed you."

Drake scoffed. That was unlikely. Diana was probably just pissed she'd had to deal with the retards on her own.

"She seems to have left a message with one of our nurses. She wanted to tell you to not get into trouble anymore because she enjoys spending time with you."

Drake couldn't hold back the bark of laughter that came from him, the idea of Diana saying anything like that completely hilarious. She enjoyed spending time with him? Ha! Oh, these people were totally botching whatever she had said. Probably something like, "Keep your ass out of trouble; you're my easy 'A'."

"Is something funny?" the doctor questioned.

"Just imagining what Diana's going to do to you all when she hears how you delivered her message," Drake grinned toothily. It'd be funny watching her yell at whatever person she'd given the message to.

"Is that so?" the doctor questioned. "And are you...close to this 'Diana'? It was noted how she seemed to immediately talk with you. Do you two know each other from somewhere else?"

Drake scowled, humor officially gone.

"Perhaps from the FAYZ?" the doctor prodded.

Drake was stonily silent. Up until now, he hadn't said a word about the FAYZ. Not about what had happened, how he felt, what he'd done. Not even to brag about all the lives he'd taken. And he _definitely _hadn't talked about the Darkness and how it'd blown away the fragile hold he'd had on his sanity pre-FAYZ.

Suddenly, though, he leaned forward, just as the doctor had sighed and began writing, assuming he wasn't going to speak.

"Yeah," Drake began. The doctor's eyes leapt up from the page, watching Drake eagerly, barely daring to breathe. He was having a breakthrough!

"She went to Coates. She dated Caine Soren, the biggest prick ever," he drawled slowly, maliciously enjoying teasing the poor little doctor with his sharing. "She thought since he had the power he could protect her. But I killed her anyways," he snickered, eyes flashing triumphantly. Then he suddenly glared, eyes flat as his expression turned murderous. His fist slammed into the table loudly. "But that damn Healer—always the damn Healer—saved her! I killed her, dammit! I had finally done it! I'd gotten rid of her stupid loud sarcastic annoying fucking _pathetic_ mouth, and then she was brought back!" he was shouting by now, yelling with all his ferocity at the doctor, who was trembling slightly, not daring to move lest he set off this animal more.

Drake's visage changed once more, grinning pleasantly. "But that was okay because I got to come back too. I always got to come back." He scowled darkly. "But then _you_ showed up," he accused. The poor doctor blinked rapidly.

"Me?" he questioned. He hadn't—

"No, you idiot!" Drake yelled. "Adults! You adults showed up and put a stop to my fun! I was going to kill them! And I was saving Diana for last," he purred happily in thought. "First the Healer. Then Breeze and Dekka. Then Astrid. Next Sam. Then Caine, though I'd torture Diana first so he could watch. But I'd kill him before Diana, because I want her to suffer the most." Drake's grin was getting more and more malevolent with each name he listed, mind reminding him of exactly how he'd kill each and every one of them. How he had been planning on whipping Breeze to death, how he had been going to strangle pretty little Astrid right in front of poor Sammy-boy's eyes.

But now he couldn't, he reminded himself, growling angrily as he glared at the doctor before him. He couldn't do any of that now because they'd cut off his whip hand! He _was_ Whip Hand, dammit, and they'd cut him up like he was a slab of meat and them the butcher.

The doctor was silent for a moment, eyes flickering from the irate male before him to the running tape recorder and suddenly so happy he'd thought to play it this time.

"So…why does Diana still come speak to you if you've made it no secret that you wish to kill her?"

Drake shrugged, hand fisting angrily. "I guess she thinks you guys can protect her if I decide to kill her again," he stated airily. But then he grinned toothily, leaning forward conspiratorially, "But you want to know a secret?" The doctor could only nod dumbly, leaning forward just slightly. "No one will be able to stop me once I decide to finally kill her. Not this time."

"From the wording of that, it sounds like you sincerely expect to kill her one day," the doctor noted.

Drake only grinned, eyes flashing wickedly. He didn't speak again for the rest of the meeting.


	3. Chapter 3

**Okay, you guys; glad you all seemed to like the last chapter. Just a note: be aware that I am going crazy trying to keep from just posting all that I have. I've never been so excited to share something I've written, so yeah, there's no telling how long I'll be able to hold out before just posting it all. I _really_ want you guys' opinion, especially on some later stuff, so let's just say you might not have to wait too long for updates. On the downside, I've got my first exams next week, so that's going to put a damper on the amount of time I have to write.**

**Chapter Three**

Diana was already sitting in her spot when Drake walked in, accompanied by two large _personal_ guards. Diana raised a brow. Drake ignored it.

"So I hear you don't want me to get in trouble anymore because you enjoy my company," he began, smirking mockingly as he sat, the two guards standing directly behind him, faces stony. Diana wasn't sure what to comment on first.

"I told them I didn't want my message summarized or messed with. Only direct quotes," she growled. Then her eyes flickered upward to the two men. "And what's with the bodyguards?" She had to ask.

"For some reason the doctor here thinks I'm going to try and attack you," Drake mused wistfully, shrugging. Then he grinned, ruining his attempt at appearing innocent.

"Gee, I wonder why," Diana drawled, rolling her eyes. "Not like you've done it before."

"I know, right?" he joined in, before both of them were laughing. Then Diana began dealing out the cards, figuring if Drake was going to ignore them, she would too.

"So I've decided to stop going easy on you," she commented, discarding.

Drake smirked. "You can think that," he drawled in answer.

"I mean it. I'm winning this time," she nodded to herself, only to scowl when he laid down a four-card run.

"You can only do your best, Ladris; don't overshoot," he mocked, discarding.

Their game continued with easy insults, neither taking it all too personal. They'd given way worse insults concerning more important matters than the other's ability to play Rummy.

"I just don't get it," Diana huffed as he won their final game, making it four to three wins once more. The third time in a row he'd won. "How do you keep beating me?"

He smirked. "Awe, don't feel bad, Ladris. It's not your fault you suck. Or, wait, it is."

"So original," she waved her hand in the air. "Haha."

Diana eyed her class as they began to pack up their stuff, saying their goodbyes. "Looks like we made it through another Friday unscathed, Merwin," she offered near-pleasantly, standing. "Only twelve or thirteen more."

"Kill you now," Drake groaned, faux-exasperated.

"The phrase is 'Kill _me_ now', idiot," she corrected him.

"I know, and it would be my _pleasure_," he stated, eyes flashing with that dangerous fire. She smirked back.

"Now that was more clever, though I expect you to have better material this time next week," she instructed him, leaning over to pat his head like a dog, seeing the guards tense at her action. "But good job coming up with that on your own."

Drake snapped at her fingers with his teeth, grinning like a shark and making the guards half-lunge at him. "Watch it, Ladris," he warned, though his sadistic grin was far from cold. He was clearly humored by her attempts to anger him.

"Bye, Drake," she called. She stepped away before pausing and turning back. "Oh, and my message from early? It clearly got botched. I said to quit doing stupid stuff to end up in solitary. I need a good grade and you're my best bet." She eyed the rest of the room. "Plus, you're the only person here that I'm not worried about you trying to cop a feel or drooling on me," she muttered, annoyed.

Drake suddenly laughed, eyes meeting Diana's. "I know," he stated simply.

"But I thought you said that they said I said—"

He cut her off with a wave of his hand, ending the he-said-she-saids. "They did. But I knew what you meant."

"Diana," her teacher called.

Diana studied him for just another second, seeing his fiery eyes flash with mischief. Then she nodded and turned to leave, not looking back, though her mind was still swirling around what exactly it meant to have Drake Merwin know her so well to be able to tell what she'd meant.

-**Break**-

Sitting bored in her psychology class on Monday, Diana found herself twirling her pen and thinking about Drake. He was looking a bit livelier than when she'd first seen him. He also seemed more like his old self, back before the FAYZ. He didn't _look_ it—except for in his eyes—but he was acting like it. Perhaps he had needed the arguments with someone who'd fight back as much as she had.

She smirked unconsciously, remembering his dangerous, humored grin. It'd been a _long_ time since she'd see that one. He always looked so much better when he was grinning, even if it almost always had an insane twinge to it. She'd been on the receiving end of a lot of those grins back when she first started dating Caine, though they'd tapered off as their missions became more and more serious, leading up to the FAYZ and the disaster it was. Sure, Drake and her had never been _close_—they'd always hated each other—but she had still liked hanging out with him. He had been the only interesting person at Coates Academy; the only person with the backbone to call her out, to argue and fight with her. Caine usually let her have her way and when he didn't, it was never an argument; he just got cold and said it like he wanted it, no discussion. That just took at the fun out of it and made him near unbearable.

She hated to admit that she'd missed her and Drake's easy hateful relationship. It was so easy to hate Drake. And sometimes you just needed someone you could insult or yell at or scream at and know that it didn't matter what they thought because you hated them.

In all honestly, she understood Drake a lot more than she'd ever understood Caine. Caine was all about tricking people, controlling them, lying. Drake was a straightforward person in nearly everything, and if he didn't want to tell you something, he didn't lie. He just didn't tell you. He was brutally—and unnecessarily, most times—honest.

She frowned. Despite all that, though, it bothered her how much more violent he'd become. She sometimes forgot that he _wasn't_ like he'd been before the FAYZ. He was in an insane asylum, for God's sake! He could have very easily bit her finger off if she'd moved any slower; in truth, it'd almost seemed like he'd gone slow on purpose. But still, he would have bit her none-the-less. She'd have to remember that he was a lot more dangerous now. After the taste of freedom and blood the FAYZ had given him, he was no doubt thirsting for more.

-**Break**-

"Excuse me," a nurse grabbed her before she could continue with her group into the room where they met with the patients. Diana sent her a bored look.

"What?"

"Dr. Raymond would really like to have a quick word with you," the nurse stated.

_About Drake, no doubt_, she thought, following her with a huff.

"Ah, Diana," the doctor welcomed familiarly as she walked into his office. She frowned at the notion, nerves on high alert. Something about this guy…

"Hello," she greeted, sitting opposite him gingerly.

"Hello. I would just like to ask you a few questions, as well as give you a sort of warning," he began. "I'll be quick, since I know your class is doing this for a grade," he looked down at his notes before looking up at her. "First off, how do you know Drake?"

"We went to school together. Coates Academy," Diana answered simply.

"I see. So you were both in the FAYZ?"

"Yes," Diana answered neutrally.

"And what was he like? Violent? Sadistic? Raging?"

"Yes, yes, and yes. Are we done yet?" Diana asked, moving to get up.

"Just a few more questions," he quickly reassured her before looking back down at his notes. "What would you say you two's…relationship was?"

"Enemies," she stated automatically. "Mortal enemies."

"Oh," he said, frowning. "That wasn't what I concluded from Drake's words," he said.

Diana paused, brow furrowing. "What do you mean that wasn't what you got? He hates me; I hate him. End of story."

"Well yes, in typical cases..." he began. "But we're speaking of a mentally unstable person; he's not going to react and portray certain actions and thoughts the same as normal people do."

Diana frowned. "What do you mean?" she questioned slowly, not sure she really wanted to know.

"What I mean is…" he flipped the page, before leaning forward, resting on his arms. "Drake sees you as the ultimate prize. You are the person he wants to hurt the most, out of everyone. Now I know from the reports that you weren't the most powerful person, so why would he want to cause more harm to you and not them? You're also not the one who burned his arm off or did any personal foul to him, though it's quite clear he's fixated himself upon you."

"Get on with it, doc," she said. "I know all this."

"Right, well, he's been labeled as sadistic, meaning he enjoys others pain. And it's clear he'd get the most enjoyment out of causing you specifically pain. So…well, what would you consider the person _you_ get the most enjoyment out of being around?" he questioned.

Diana eyes widened in horror.

"Are you telling me that…that Drake…_likes_ me? As in, he has a _crush_ on me?" she laughed. "Are you insane?"

"I realize you find this hard to believe, but you're thinking of this as a normal person, not as someone mentally handicapped," he tried to reason. "Drake is, as I've mentioned, mentally unsound. To him, hurting others is pleasurable. And he'd get the greatest pleasure from hurting you so, if one were to make the connections…"

"No. Just no," Diana shook her head. "Drake doesn't like me. He simply doesn't _like_ people. He's, like, asexual or something," she waved off, before stilling.

_I'm not a virgin, Ladris. I've had sex before, and I'd fuck you until you bled and screamed and begged me to stop._

Her eyes widened. Surely he hadn't been serious though. Surely he didn't really want to…she thought he just wanted to hurt her! Not rape her! Oh God. And what if he really _had_ had sex before; didn't that prove he had hormones? She covered her face. Oh God oh God oh God. And she'd been _mildly_ encouraging it. And she'd chosen him because she didn't think he would be leering at her like a pervert; only now it seemed like she'd chosen the only one in the entire hospital who might want to rape and then kill her and very nearly possessed the power to do it. She'd never be able to fight him off, even without the whip hand or without him having worked out in a while.

"I see you're beginning to believe me," the doctor noted. "Look, I'm not trying to frighten you or anything. You see, since you coming here Drake has truly opened up. I believe you being here to challenge him gives him incentive to move forward in his therapy, as well as gives him something to look forward to. Though I doubt he'd admit it, I do believe he enjoys your Friday meetings. I just wanted you to be aware of the potential danger and that you should tread carefully around him, as he's liable to be more tolerant but also more volatile and unpredictable with you due his to hormones and emotions playing off his mental condition." After that quick summary, the doctor stood, straightening the stack of papers on his desk before picking them up. "And now that I've said that, we can continue on to the activity room. I'm sure he's waiting on you." He smiled kindly, as if he hadn't just told her a raging sadist had targeted her.

Diana was still frozen in her chair. Drake liked her. Drake freaking Merwin _liked_ her? How long had this been going on? During the FAYZ? Before? He'd always seemed to hate her more than anyone else, since the first moment they'd met and she'd said something sarcastic to him, which apparently very few others dared.

"Diana?" the doctor asked gently.

Diana stood stiffly, choosing to think about all this later as she stalked from the office and towards the larger meeting room, walking in briskly and refusing to allow herself time to stop and think. As she stepped into the room, stormy grey eyes immediately caught hers, the look so intense she shuddered. Instantly upon catching her eyes and realizing she was here, Drake's eyes seemed to lessen the anger, flaring up with the anticipation of their usual argumentative and mocking banter. How could she have ever missed it? He was clearly _excited_ to see her. _Her_.

_Wait, wait_, she tried to calm herself as she began walking to the chair opposite him. _He's bound to be bored in here. You're the only person he knows. Anyone would like a familiar face amongst a sea of strangers._

"What took you, Ladris?" he questioned as she sat, raising a brow daringly.

"Forgive a girl for having to fix her hair," she growled automatically, adamantly _refusing_ to bring this up. He'd most definitely just deny it and begin glaring and hissing at her. Besides, she didn't really believe it, did she?

"Well you might want to go back," he answered, just as she knew he would.

"Just shut it, Merwin," she growled, tense, dealing the cards. What was she doing? She needed to go find someone else, ignore Drake, never ever ever talk to him again. But he wasn't ever going to get out, after all. He was very clearly insane. She'd just have to make it through the rest of the semester and then it was goodbye Psychology and hello Human Development. Goodbye Drake and hello Freedom.

They played a bit in silence, Diana feeling Drake's eyes watching her. Finally, as she discarded, finishing up their first game with her as the winner, he dropped his cards on the table, leaning forward and hissing, "Spill it."

The guards behind him tensed at his movement, Diana's eyes flickering up at them. They'd be able to stop him, right? If he made to attack her?

"Ladris," Drake warned lowly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she waved off, collecting the cards to begin shuffling. She couldn't meet his intense gaze.

"You were late. You lied about why. You're sitting like you're surrounded by bombs and you haven't made a single insult towards me. What the hell's wrong?"

"Nothing," she answered automatically, risking a look up only to regret it. Drake was leaning across the table, a foot of space between them as his grey eyes glared right into her, capturing her gaze and not letting it go.

"Do. Not. Lie. To. Me," he growled brokenly in a low tone. "I know something's up."

"And how do you know that?" Diana hissed back, leaning just a bit closer in her annoyance.

"Because I know you. And if you're dodging this this much, it would have to be about m…" he trailed off, eyes widening just slightly as realization struck. His glare suddenly intensified and he leaned even closer, voice low. "What the hell'd he say about me and why'd he tell you?"

Diana was frozen, hands unconsciously clutching around the deck of cards. He'd figured it out. But how? Could he really read her that well? Since when? Fear settled in then. But why was she reacting so strongly? Surely Drake didn't like her. The very idea was laughable. And, even if by some miniscule unlikely chance he did like her, what did it matter? He was locked in here indefinitely; it wasn't like he'd ever be able to make good on his threats. And that was _if_ it was true, which is totally definitely wasn't.

"I'm seriously, Diana. Tell me what that doctor said about me, or I'm going to bash his head in during our next meeting. I'll jump across the table, grab ahold of his hair, and smash his head into the table until he stops moving," he growled lowly, so low she had no doubt the guards hadn't heard it. They looked at each other nervously, clearly unsure about what to do about the situation. Drake was radiating aggression, but he hadn't really attacked anyone yet; their protocol didn't really cover this gray area well.

"Don't," she responded automatically, voice just as low.

"Don't think I won't," he warned. "You know I will." And that was the problem. She _did _know. She knew he was completely serious.

"It's not even that important," she tried to calm him down, waving off his concerns.

"Then why are you flipping out? In fact, why tell you anything in the first place?" he questioned. "What did he tell you?" he demanded again.

"Just that you'd threatened me and he thought it was stupid for me to continue to hang around you. He wanted me to pick someone else as my assignment," she fibbed quickly.

"Try again," Drake answered lowly, eyes serious. Diana hated to feel that she gulped at the coldness she saw in those eyes. Those were the eyes from the FAYZ, not the heated ones full of mischievous flames.

"He…" she began. Surely it wasn't a big deal because it had to be false. There was simply no way it was true. But, whether or not it was true, how would he react to it?

He glared.

"He's delusional, alright?" she hissed.

"Diana," he growled, not satisfied.

"Alright, alright," she relented, eyes flickering around before she leaned closer, voice low. Drake leaned towards her until just inches separated them. "He said…he seems to be under the impression that…that you…"

"That I?" he prodded at her lengthy pause.

"…_like_ me," she forced out through clenched teeth, waiting for the blow up.

Drake's anger melted for a second as he tilted his head to the side and blinked once.

"What?" he asked, confused.

She huffed, annoyed with having to repeat it. "I said that the doctor seems to believe that you like me."

Drake glowered at her. "_That's _what you've been flipping out about?" he questioned incredulously.

She stared at him in disbelief. "Are you telling me you _do _like me?" she questioned, near hysterical.

His nose scrunched up in disgust. "No. But it should be obvious that I don't. What would make you even believe a lie like that?"

She sighed, dragging a hand through her hair stressfully. "I don't know. That's what I said. But then he started going over some comparison of you to normal people and somehow he made it sound like it might make sense."

"Me to normal people?" Drake asked.

She waved her hand in the air dismissively, fears quelled. "Something about how normal people show their affection with kindness, while you show it through wanting to hurt that person the most. And then he mentioned how fixated you were on killing me as opposed to Sam or Caine, who actually did something to you, and somehow he made it all sound believable. I freaked."

Drake was scowling, though he wasn't looking at her. Diana sighed once more, putting the troubling thoughts from her mind and shuffling the deck a few more times. "Anyways, ready for the next round?" she asked, smirking slightly, glad to have gotten that over without the blow-up she'd expected from him.

"Hm," Drake hummed, brow scrunched in thought as he swiped at his cards. The rest of their shorter time frame was spent with very little speaking, Drake seemingly lost in his own head. He still managed to win their shorter three-out-of-five game, something that annoyed Diana greatly.

"You're cheating somehow," she accused, glowering at him. "I just have to figure out how."

"Not likely, Ladris," he commented back without any real heat, still lost in his own thoughts, though his eyes did flicker quickly to the reflective window behind her before returning to her glowering face. She'd failed to notice the quick glance.

"Okay, now what's up with you?" Diana questioned, annoyed. Drake waved her off, dismissing her without a word as her teacher and classmates began to leave. She clenched her teeth at the injustice, quickly leaning from her standing position to put her just inches away from Drake's face. He was instantly focused on her, eyes sparkling slightly while his lip curled and he growled.

"Get out of my face, Ladris," he demanded.

Diana studied him, eyes boring into his steadily. What was he thinking? What was going on in his mind?

Drake glared back. "Move before I bite you," he warned lowly. It only happened for a second, but Diana was sure she hadn't imagined it. His eyes had flickered to her lips though she'd made no movement. Narrowing her eyes, she licked her lips, watching as his eyes were drawn to the movement, staring at her lips for just a moment longer. Before he could look back at her eyes, she'd already pulled away, walking towards the door stoically. Drake might not like her, but he was might just be interested in her. Diana wasn't sure how to take that.

**-Break-**

"Good evening, Drake," the doctor began in their next meeting. Drake stared straight ahead, stone-faced.

_This guy…this guy,_ he thought, not even able to come up with a sufficient insult. He wasn't sure what he was maddest about. That he told Diana a lie about him, or that his lie had made him start seriously questioning whether or not there was some merit to it. But he didn't like Diana. He hated her. He wanted to kill her.

After he had sex with her.

He frowned, ignoring the babbling doctor. That's right. He'd decided he wanted sex with her first. But why? Maybe he did, somehow, subconsciously…He shook his head, frowning. No. He did not like her. It was just another way to prove that he was greater than her, stronger, better. It certainly wasn't because she had sexy hair that would be perfect to grab and pull back, making her bare her vulnerable throat to him as he nipped at the flesh there before moving to her full lips, kissing her breathless so she couldn't make any more of her stupid sarcastic comments and all she could say was his name as he dug his nails into the soft curve of her hip, pressing her against a wall until she was immobile, unable to get away from him as he—

"Drake," the doctor interrupted.

Drake's hazy stare focused into a cold glare at the doctor.

"I asked you a question."

Drake didn't respond.

"Drake," the doctor warned.

_One proper kick,_ he thought, shifting in his seat slightly, the chains sounding with his feet's movement. He'd just have to get his foot sort of beneath him and kick up just right. He'd get over the table and land right on him. Then he'd be able to make good on his promise to Diana.

Though, he'd only told her he'd do that if she didn't tell him what he'd said, and she had. He frowned. He couldn't do it now, then.

"Drake," the doctor called back his attention. He sighed. "Just bring him to his room," he directed the guards. He stood to leave before pausing. "Oh, and I don't think the extra personal guard in necessary anymore so after you drop him off you can return to your original duties." The two guards nodded before walking behind Drake.

_About time_, he mentally grumbled, glad to be able to get at least some kind of privacy with Diana now. It was so…weird, having to lean closer and speak softer to keep from being overheard. It made his eyes wander from her eyes to her lips sometimes and he couldn't help but feel sort of sick to his stomach when Diana spoke in that soft voice to him.

-**Break**-

The following Friday, Drake was sitting at his spot, devoid in any guards thankfully. Diana still garnered a few looks from the staff though as she went to join him.

"Posse leave you?" she questioned casually, noticing him playing a game of Solitaire. She swiped up the cards to begin shuffling, sticking her tongue out at him as he looked up with a glare. She once more silently observed as his glare fell just a few inches short of her eyes.

He then seemed to shake himself out of it, meeting her eyes with a smirk. "Apparently, I'm no longer considered a danger to you," he revealed.

"Is that so?" she asked, raising a brow. "Are you sure that doctor is certified?"

Drake chuckled, accepting the cards she dealt him with a shrug. "I'm just glad to get those idiots off my back." He scowled down at his cards. "I hate being watched all the time."

Diana didn't comment, eyes quickly looking to see his hunched shoulders. The way he leaned over the table, one might think he was just trying to keep someone from seeing his cards but Diana frowned slightly. It wasn't that. He almost looked like he was trying to hide, to curl up enough around himself to get a measure of privacy. She'd imagine he hadn't had any of that since the FAYZ.

"Who does?" she finally replied airily, beginning the game.

"They didn't put anyone else in an asylum," Drake noted quietly, and Diana had to look up to make sure it was still _Drake_ sitting in front of her. He'd almost sounded…sad. Lonely, maybe. Her brow furrowed, watching him carefully draw a card with his one hand and try to hold all of his cards while figuring out which one he wanted to get rid of.

"No, but everyone had to take therapy. Some more than others. I hear Astrid's _still_ taking it," she murmured lowly.

"I wasn't the only one who lost it completely," Drake defended with a growl, looking up to turn cold eyes on her.

"No," she agreed, "But you're the only one who didn't get it back once the walls came down," she pointed out.

His teeth clicked together in his annoyance but he said no more, discarding.

"What's with you today?" she questioned, trying to sound casual as she inspected her cards after the draw. "You sound so…broody."

"It's boring in here," he grumbled out, leaning back and huffing. "There's nothing to do but stare at walls and talk. I hate talking. The only time anything fun happens is when I get in a fight, but then I have solitary for some number of days, which just means I get to stare at a different wall," he groused.

"They don't have sports or anything? You used to be pretty good at outdoorsy stuff," she mused.

"I got to play basketball one day, but then I chucked the ball into some guy's face, busted his lip and gave him a nose bleed. Then I beat the guards that were taking me to solitary," he calmly informed her, eyes wistfully flickering to the window.

"Perhaps you shouldn't have done that," Diana noted, discarding after laying down a run.

"Maybe not," Drake relented, beginning his turn.

"Maybe you could earn basketball back," she stated by way of being helpful.

"Doubt it," he scowled, setting a set down. "I'd have to quit getting into fights, but it's just so boring when I don't."

Diana could distinctly remember back at Coates, how Drake had gotten into a few fights, but nothing like what she'd been hearing about him while in here. Sounded like he got into fights nearly every week. At Coates, Drake could go months without getting involved in something too serious. Usually the first of the year was always his busiest time, what with new students coming and thinking they could take over, but by the end of the year, Drake hardly ever got in trouble for fighting.

_You see, since you coming here Drake has truly opened up. I believe you being here to challenge him gives him incentive to move forward in his therapy, as well as gives him something to look forward to. Though I doubt he'd admit it, I do believe he enjoys your Friday meetings…he's liable to be more tolerant…_

The doctor's explanation rang in her mind. She still didn't believe Drake liked her, but he probably did enjoy the change from the monotony her familiar presence gave. If she'd been in the same situation, she could see herself _maybe_ enjoying Drake's presence too.

"Wonder if they'd let us play basketball instead of cards," she mused aloud, finishing her turn. Drake looked up, eyes curious. Seemed he hadn't thought of that. She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "Maybe I could ask them, see what'd they say, since they obviously don't like you," she relented, finally meeting his gaze. Drake looked almost excited, though only his eyes showed it.

"You hate basketball," Drake pointed out, sounding doubtful.

"No, I hate gym teachers yelling at me and telling me what to do," she corrected. "I'm not half bad at basketball, actually," she sniffed thoughtfully.

Drake stared at her for a moment, eyes studying her.

"It's your turn," she informed him.

"Are you seriously going to ask?" he finally voiced what was on his mind, leaning just a bit closer, still not beginning his turn.

"Why wouldn't I?" she questioned. "I told you I would."

"But why would you do something for me?" he asked slowly, distrustfully.

She sighed, meeting his glare evenly. "Drake, I still don't like you. You're a repugnant human being. But even lab rats have wheels they can exercise on."

Drake glowered, nose scrunching in disgust. "Did you just call me a rat?" he hissed.

"Yes."

He glared at her for a minute, before shaking his head and huffing, sounding incredibly annoyed. "Whatever," he growled, finally drawling a card and setting his score down, discarding to end the game. It was her turn to glower.

"You so cheated," she accused. He'd won.

"Prove it," he said simply, smirking.

Diana just huffed, scooping up the cards to begin again.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

As her class walked into the asylum the next Friday, Diana immediately walked up to the nurse ushering them all in.

"Excuse me, but may I speak with Dr. Raymond?" she questioned.

"One moment," she smiled before moving to one of the phones at the nurses' station. She returned just a few seconds later. "He's in his office. I'll show you where it is."

"You wanted to speak with me?" the doctor asked as Diana walked into his office.

"About Drake," she told him, sitting across from him. He immediately gave her his attention. "I can't help but notice he's been very violent with you. Seems he gets into trouble every week," she began.

"He does," the doctor nodded.

"Well I think it'd be a good idea on your behalf to give him some other way to get all that excess energy out or he's just going to keep fighting," she told him.

"We've already tried to allow him the privilege of the basketball court, but…it did not end well," the doctor stated.

Diana waved him off. "Oh I know about that. He already told me," she stated. "But I'm telling you because violent or not, Drake's less testy when he's actually getting to get a work out. At Coates he was really active. He played nearly every sport and even then still had work-out regiments he'd do in his room just to get out the energy. Just keeping him locked in his room is not going to make him any friendlier and it's certainly not going to make him more likely to talk."

"Did he get into physical altercations at Coates?" the doctor questioned.

"Sometimes, but he could go months without getting into anything major," she shrugged.

"So what would you suggest? It's clear he does not get along with others, and when open the basketball court always has others present."

"Isn't everyone in the activity room when my class shows up? Why not let him and I play during that time?" Diana suggested.

"You would be joining him," the doctor stated more than asked. Diana nodded all the same.

"I would keep a watch over him and I'd yell if anything happened, so you wouldn't even have to get any of your staff to do any special jobs or anything," she offered.

"And you don't think that being in the basketball court, unsupervised but by you, would provide Drake with the perfect opportunity to harm you as he's been promising?" the doctor questioned.

Diana sighed, leaning her head against her hand and eyeing him coolly. "Look, I get you're trying to be cautious and careful and whatever, but I know Drake. I've known him for years and, if I made it alive through the FAYZ with him, I'm pretty sure I can make it through a few hours a week playing basketball. You don't get it. He's been threatening my life since the first time he met me and I'm going to admit, he's had more than one chance to go through with it. Now I'm not saying he's never hurt me or that I'm not afraid of him. He is dangerous and I realize that, but I can take care of myself."

The doctor was silent, studying her. After a moment, he leaned back away from his desk.

"I suppose we can try this today and see how it goes. If everything runs smoothly, you and Drake will be allowed to continue. However, if it goes badly, Drake will be put in solitary for a time period determined by just how badly it goes."

Diana nodded, she could accept that. "Thank you," she acknowledged.

The doctor smiled. "No, thank you. Having you here and spending time with him has truly had a positive influence on Drake. I hope you're right about the amount of physical activity and this works."

The two walked to the activity room, Drake's eyes lifting to eye the doctor at her side distastefully. The doctor gestured for him to come to them. Drake only glowered. Diana rolled her eyes and huffed, raising a brow at him and giving a look like he was the biggest idiot ever. Drake glared at her but stood stiffly, stalking over to them. The doctor observed their silent interaction curiously.

"Drake, Diana here has had an interesting suggestion," the doctor began as they started walking down the white halls, the chains on Drake's ankles clinking loudly. Diana eyed them curiously. She'd never noticed them before. Had he always had those? How were they going to play if he couldn't run?

"She seems to think you'd enjoy some time to exert yourself physically. However, as we attempted to allow you this privilege before only for you to cause harm to some else, she suggested we allow you the chance when others are not around. And so, today we're going to try letting you and Diana play basketball on the court. She'll call for us if you try to do anything bad so behave yourself," he instructed, opening the door to the basketball court and allowing the two to step inside. He sent Drake a look. "Understood?"

Drake glared at him but finally nodded jerkily.

"Good," the doctor smiled kindly before gesturing for him to sit. Drake begrudgingly did, watching stone-faced as the doctor removed the shackles. "I'll be back in a bit to check on you," he informed them, giving Drake one last warning look before leaving.

"How'd you manage this?" Drake asked, walking calmly over to the rack of orange balls, shaking out his feet and mentally overjoyed at not hearing the clink of metal against metal.

"Suggestive reasoning," Diana informed him heading to the basket. Drake threw a look over his shoulder to find her before tossing one of the balls at her. She jumped as she caught it, attempting a layup. She smirked as she scored, moving to catch the descending ball only for Drake to rush past her, snatching it and shooting her a grin before jumping from further back, easily making it in the basket with a swish. She glowered, snatching the ball and dribbling, moving even further back. She eyed the basket carefully before shooting. She smirked as another swish echoed in the silent court.

"Not bad," Drake almost complimented, grabbing the ball and dribbling with his only hand. Diana frowned slightly as he shot. It still didn't seem right to think of Drake with only one hand. Even when she'd cut the burning stump off, she'd hardly been able to believe it was happening. Like the FAYZ was just one big nightmare. But to see him now, it just proved that it had all been real.

He'd never be able to play sports like he used to. He'd never be able to do a lot of things he used to be able to do. She was still frowning when he turned to see her watching him. He scowled, like he was reading her mind, and threw the ball at her middle. She just barely caught it before it winded her.

"Testy testy," she muttered, annoyed, as she moved a bit before shooting from the three-point line. It hit the backboard before falling into the basket neatly.

"Quit looking at me like that," he ordered her, giving her his back as he snatched the ball and moved to the other side of the basket. Diana automatically went to stand closer to the basket, wondering about his tone. He'd sounded defensive, even embarrassed maybe.

"Like what?" she pushed as he turned and eyed the basket, ignoring her. He made his shot. Missed. He scowled as she tipped him, easily catching the ball in the air and sinking it in the basket, winking at him mockingly as she landed on her feet. "How am I looking at you?" she asked again.

"Like I'm some handicapped retard who needs your pity," he snapped, stepping closer to retrieve the ball. Instead of going for it, however, even as she stepped aside for him, he only stood in front of her, glowering down at her.

"But you are handicapped," Diana decided to push, for whatever insane reason. She didn't know what her mouth was doing.

Drake's lip curled in his anger and he sneered at her, stepping closer dangerously with his one hand in a fist. "I don't need two hands," he growled out. Diana stepped back cautiously, knowing the wall wasn't far behind her and not wanting to block herself in. Drake turned though, moving away from her towards the ball resting beside the padded wall. Diana tried to calm herself, but she jumped as a loud smack echoed through the gym.

Drake had punched the wall, she saw as she turned to him, and probably would have broken his hand had it not been for the padding. Now he was just standing there, back to her and fist pressing against the wall, ball at his feet. His shoulders were hunched forward, trembling just slightly, as he stood frozen.

"Fucking Sam," he muttered lowly.

"Just be glad he didn't get your head like he was trying," Diana said softly, carefully stepping closer. Her sense of self-preservation had truly gone on vacation today.

"Probably would have been better if he had," she heard him mutter so lowly, so spitefully that she froze. He hadn't sounded sad like she'd thought, near tears as she'd assumed from the shudders in his frame. She'd just presumed he'd broken down like he had a few times before getting his whip hand. Instead, she could now feel the animosity emanating from him. He was seething, so enraged at his handicapped state that she could practically taste it in the air. She almost didn't dare breathe lest the animal target her.

For whatever reason, Diana foolishly stepped closer anyways, hand raising to softly brush his back. He jerked away from her, turning and giving her the full glare of icy hatred simmering just beneath the surface of his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that," he demanded through clenched teeth, fist clenched dangerously at his side. "Don't ever look at me like that."

"I'm not pitying you," Diana denied immediately, automatically. "I'd never pity you."

"Oh yeah?" he questioned harshly, leaning closer. Diana tried to get away, but he still managed to block her against the wall.

"You're a horrible person, Drake. You deserve whatever misfortune comes to you," Diana claimed, managing a glare.

Drake just continued to glare at her, eyes freezing as they bored into hers.

"Let me go, Drake," she demanded lowly.

"I'm not touching you," he pointed out lowly. Diana knew that, of course, but something about his close presence overwhelmed her; she simply couldn't get her limbs to move.

Something seemed to change in his eyes just as she realized that she'd have to push him to get away. He leaned just a bit closer. Would she even be able to push him? Even if he hadn't been working out and was thinner than usual—borderline sickly—she couldn't believe that she'd ever be able to overpower Drake.

"You know, Diana, I heard some things that you did in the FAYZ too," he murmured lowly, his cold gaze turning mocking, though there was still no life about them.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she sneered, pressed against the wall.

"Is that why you can't be around Soren anymore? Does he remind you of what you did?" he whispered against her ear. Diana found herself trembling. He couldn't know. He'd been long gone, far in the reaches of the Darkness, when she'd…when she'd…

"Did you tell your therapist?" he hissed. "Did you talk it out?" Diana wanted to shut her eyes, knowing he could easily read the fear she had in them. He couldn't know. He couldn't.

"Tell me…" he began, pausing as he leaned closer, his lips just brushing the outer shell of her ear as he breath wafted down her neck. "Did he taste good?"

Diana shoved at his chest and Drake stumbled back, caught off guard as she scrambled away from him. How did he know? How could he know? He'd been gone! He shouldn't know about it!

She stopped with her back to the wall far away from him, eyes watching him warily like he might suddenly bite her. He'd fallen backwards but hadn't bothered to get up yet, just watching her with narrowed, cool eyes. They were both silent for a long time.

"H…How?" she finally managed to ask. "How do you know?"

"Anyone will talk with the right motivation," he drawled, still watching her.

"I…I haven't told anyone," she murmured, looking down at her feet. "I'm not even sure if Caine…"

"He did," Drake earned her attention again. "Learned that too from the little creep," he informed her casually.

"I...had figured," she tried to steel herself again, tried to put all this behind her. She didn't want to talk about this, least of all with Drake Merwin.

"Kind of surprised me," he continued. "I mean, even I hadn't given it too serious of a thought," he pointed out.

"Just…stop. Please," she spoke up.

"I mean, if you think a few days' worth of hunger is bad, try weeks—_months_—of not finding a scrap to eat. Even if I couldn't die, it was still agony. Or, it was when I thought about it," he spoke, voice giving away nothing as he stared at the wall, face shadowed by memories. "But even then, that was something I just never really considered much."

"Stop," Diana tried again. "I don't need to know how much worse I am than you," she said.

"Worse than me?" Drake scoffed, looking towards her with a raised brow, which she didn't look up to see. "You've have to do a lot worse than survive to be considered worse than me," he drawled casually.

"But I didn't survive," she murmured, looking down at her hands. She could still remember the smell, the _taste_. She shivered, disgusted with herself. "I killed part of myself in the FAYZ."

"Everyone did," he informed her, moving to stand and walking over to her. He presented his one hand for her to take. She didn't move.

"I…I…I _ate_ him, Drake," she murmured, sickened. "I ate a person. Panda. Poor Panda. I ate him."

Drake stooped down, reaching for her face and forcing her to meet his burning gaze, the icy chill having been swallowed by the flames. "I hunted down a girl, burned down her house, and nearly shot her and her stupid little brother. I cemented who knows how many kids and left them to die. I shot a boy in the knee, completely blowing it away. I shot a little boy. I shot his sister, then kicked her dying body into a wall. I whipped a boy until I could see the bones on his back and I kept going. I nearly _killed_ you," he paused, stressing that. Diana was still, entranced by the confession, admittedly awed that Drake actually remembered most of what he'd done.

"I went after little kids, whipping them. I nearly strangled a boy. I sent a pack of man-eating bugs after a bunch of kids." He paused again, making sure Diana was listening. "I fed a boy who'd helped me to those same bugs and watched as they tore him apart," he informed her. She gasped, eyes wide.

"And want to know something else I did, Diana?" he asked lowly. "I laughed. In everything I did, I laughed through it all. So no. You're nowhere near my level just because you ate a boy who'd killed himself just so you could survive. If you were, you'd be in here with me."

Diana was quiet, stricken by all that Drake had revealed. She hadn't known all of that, especially the last bit. She found herself wondering who the boy was but couldn't bring herself to ask.

She managed to calm herself down after a moment, looking into Drake's eyes voluntarily. "Thank you," she murmured quietly.

"I was just pointing out the facts you seemed to have missed," he said instead, releasing his hold on her and moving to sit in front of her. He leaned back on his one hand, legs casually sprawled out before him and sort of encircling her own. She wasn't sure if he'd meant to do that or just had by accident.

"You know, we never used to talk like this," she observed.

"I never used to be in an insane asylum either," he pointed out. "Even you're better company than doctors and fake-happy nurses."

"Awe, well thank you," she rolled her eyes before looking towards the door. "You know, the doctor will probably be back soon. We should at least pretend to be playing a game. If you want to keep these privileges," she added.

Drake stood without comment, once again offering his hand. This time, Diana took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

"Don't ever pity me," Drake warned her, squeezing her hand slightly and looking at her with serious eyes.

"I won't," she said.

"But you did," he growled.

"I did," she admitted. "I'm just not used to you not having two arms," she added quietly.

"You're the one who cut it off," he stated, surprisingly not showing any outward heat. He didn't clench his teeth or squeeze her hand until it hurt. He was simply stating a fact.

"The FAYZ just feels like a long nightmare," she revealed quietly, her eyes landed on his right bicep, which ended just before where his elbow would have been. "It doesn't feel like any of it really happened."

"It did," Drake refuted, "and there's no going back. But I'm not some handicapped retard," he growled. "I don't need your pity."

"I know you're not, Drake," she huffed, looking up at him exasperatedly. "I'd never think you were. But you are handicapped. Maybe I don't pity you but just…empathize, sort of."

"Empathize?" he questioned.

"Yes, empathize. The FAYZ took your arm," she began, reaching forward with her hand—the one Drake wasn't clutching—and brushing the stump gently, "and it took a piece of me from inside. Doing…Doing what I did…it really shattered some part of me I didn't even know I could lose," she revealed quietly. Then she sighed, looking up at him. "So I don't pity you. And I'm sorry if I do look at you like that sometimes. Just…to see someone who's as strong as you permanently wounded by the FAYZ only makes me realize how hopeless it is that I'll ever become what I once was, before the FAYZ took that part of me. I'll never get it back."

Drake was quiet for a bit, just watching her. Finally his hold on her hand lessened slightly. "Fine," he muttered, "But I still can't stand that look, like I'm weak or can't do anything on my own," he grumbled.

"Drake, I'd never think you were weak," she informed him, turning to face him fully and looking up to meet his gaze. He met it for a second before Diana noticed his eyes drop a couple of inches. Most likely subconsciously, he licked his lips, making Diana realize she was staring at his lips as well.

_What am I doing?_ She questioned herself, looking up to see where his eyes were. _I don't like Drake. He's a despicable, atrocious person. I need to pull away right now, go get that stupid ball, and shoot some hoops before that doctor comes in and finds us like this. He's bound to think something's up between us…wait. Is he leaning closer?_

Diana tried to focus, mind flying. Was Drake really going to…No. He wouldn't. But it did look like he might be leaning closer. His eyes flickered up for a second, meeting her own. He froze, just watching her for a second, seemingly warring in his mind just as Diana was.

_We hate each other_, Diana thought desperately. _He can't like me!_

_But maybe…maybe we don't have to like each other. We just found out that we have more in common than we care to admit. He knows all the horrible things I've done, but he's done worse. More than that, he somehow got me to get over something I couldn't ever bare to tell anyone else. And he's not the worst looking guy I've kissed_…she thought, eyeing his lips and licking hers subconsciously.

_I hate her_, Drake repeated in his head for the millionth time. _But she's not bad looking. I mean, she's…she's hot,_ he finally admitted. _And I can't stand her, but she does seem to get me at least a bit. And she hasn't run yet_, he added, watching her lick her lips. _It's just a kiss. I just want to kiss her. I'm not asking her to share feelings or trying to be her boyfriend or anything. And if I want to kiss her, I am, and it won't affect how much I hate her at all._

Decided, he began leaning towards her more determinedly, looking up to meet her gaze. She wasn't pulling away. Instead, her eyes were falling to half-mast, watching him. His own eyes hooded just as he pressed his lips to hers.

Diana couldn't believe Drake Merwin was kissing her. Never in all her years would she have thought she'd be in the situation. And she definitely wouldn't have thought that she'd be kissing back.

He wasn't so bad a kisser, she thought. Just as she got used to the pressure—still a bit shocked that he hadn't slammed his mouth against hers violently, as she'd figured he'd go about it—she felt something just barely brush against her bottom lip. Diana was a bit surprised he didn't just take what he wanted, but still found herself opening up, letting his tongue slip into her mouth smoothly.

Drake couldn't believe this. He was kissing Diana Ladris. This whole thing was completely insane. But still, he found himself liking the feel of her tongue against his, not quite battling but more testing the waters. He loosed his hand from hers, dragging his fingers up her arm and to the back of her neck before tangling them into her hair and tugging her closer. Her newly freed hand went up to twirl the darker locks of hair at the nape of his neck while her other hand came to rest on the bicep of his right arm.

They separated after a moment, pulling away a bit as they met the heated gaze of the other.

"The doctor could be back any second," Diana breathed out. Drake scowled but pulled away completely, releasing her from his hold and giving her his back, moving towards the forgotten basketball. He picked it up before walking back to her, putting it in her hands.

"If we don't get in trouble this time, he's going to let us come here every Friday, right?" he asked lowly.

"That's what he said," she confirmed.

"And he won't check up on us as often," he added, before a slow smirk cross his features. Diana felt herself returning it.

"We'll have to be careful," she told him.

"Scared of a little danger?" Drake mocked.

"I'm here with you, aren't I?" she sent back before moving around him trying to get a shot, dribbling a bit. Only Drake moved to block her path. She frowned at him, taking another step. He followed, still blocking her. She glared at him. He smirked. Then she got it, narrowing her eyes at the challenge and dribbling low to the ground. Drake immediately copied her movements, making a swipe for the ball. Diana pulled back, turning and trying to move around him, only Drake was faster than her, blocking her as she tried to go for a shot. He knocked the ball from the air, rushing to the basket as she tried to get in front of him. He grinned as he scored a simple layup.

"Two points," he stated. He checked the ball to her as she walked to the half-court line. Then they began to play.

**-Break-**

When the doctor returned twenty minutes later, he nearly had a heart attack at the sight of Drake harassing Diana, refusing to let her so much as move an inch. He had his larger frame blocking off all her escape routes while Diana seemed to be searching for a way out.

"Drake!" the doctor called angrily. The boy glanced over at him for a second, but his momentary distraction was enough for Diana to slip by. The doctor blinked in confusion when she began dribbling a basketball and made a quick layup. Drake glowered at her, then the doctor.

"What?" he hissed at the other man, annoyed at having let Diana take the lead. She was now one point ahead of him.

"Oh, you were playing a game," the doctor thought aloud. "I thought…my apologies," he said, smiling slightly. "So is it safe to presume there's been no issues?"

"No," Diana told him as she checked the ball to Drake. She was quick to block his rush towards the basket. The doctor observed silently as Drake spun and got around her, though she came and knocked his shot out of the air before it could make it to the basket. Drake glared at her, blocking her from making her own shot. She dropped low, streaking past Drake's right side. She went for a shot but missed, the ball bouncing off the rim. Drake jumped in the air, catching the ball before shooting it back. It made a swish as he scored. Drake smirked at Diana, who scowled.

Honestly, the doctor was surprised that Drake was still so athletically gifted. It was like his loss of a limb had had no effect on his abilities. He was also surprised by the interaction between the two that he witnessed. They seemed to be quite in tune with each other. Perhaps there was more to his deduction than he'd thought.

"Well, Diana, your class will be departing in a few minutes. Your teacher wanted me to come get you," the doctor informed her. She huffed, while Drake grinned.

"Then I win," Drake bragged. She glared at him.

"I'll mop the floor with you next week," Diana refuted, stalking towards the door. Drake followed her casually.

"It's not nice to lie," Drake drawled. Diana lashed out, smacking his arm as they both arrived at the door. The doctor raised a brow, worry crossing his features. Was it really smart of Diana to interact with Drake physically? He tensed, waiting, his hand slipping into his pocket to clutch the syringe of tranquilizer he'd brought with him. However, instead of attacking her as he'd expected, Drake only grunted and shrugged his shoulder, glaring at her.

"See you next week," Diana tossed over her shoulder, raising her hand in a half wave. Drake's eyes watched her as she walked down the hallway to the front of the building. The doctor watched him curiously. Drake finally turned his eyes to the doctor, cold gaze speaking of malice.

"What?" he growled lowly.

"It's time for supper," the doctor spoke, keeping his thoughts to himself as he waited for Drake to begin the trek to the cafeteria. The boy scowled but began his walk, ignoring the doctor at his side.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The doctor sat at his desk in silent pondering. For seven weeks the psychology class from the local high school had been visiting every Friday for three hours. In those seven weeks, each of the sixteen students had chosen a particular patient to spend their time with and learn about. At the end of the semester, each student was to do a report on that patient. It was a simple enough assignment that he'd allowed for the past four years, as the results were always usually beneficial in terms of the patients' growth. All of them reacted positively to the students' repeated one-on-one involvement, which the limited number of nurses simply wasn't able to do. Still…

He'd never had one of the students chose such a volatile and temperamental patient before. He supposed Diana had chosen Drake as her patient most likely due to the 'easy A' he would make; if she already knew his history and everything about him, she wouldn't have to do as much work. But the fact was that Drake had opened up exponentially in his therapy within the last few weeks, more so than within the past year of him being here. Diana's presence was the catalyst he'd needed to make progress with what had seemed like the impenetrable wall of silent rage that had coated Drake. The idea of her ceasing her visits during such a pivotal moment in his therapy was horrifying.

But the fact remained that there was only eleven more weeks until the Christmas holidays. Then, there'd be one more class visit before the end of the semester and their reports would be due. Drake simply would not be cured by that time and more than likely would regress without Diana's continued involvement in his therapy. If he was correct in his assumptions, Drake's tie to her went not only on a familiar level, but was also on an emotional and psychological level. He liked her and his hormones were reacting to that, but his mental disability tied him to her in the much more unhealthy way of desiring to harm her. His subconscious read his crush on Diana as a threat to his control over himself and thus he wanted to correct it, to force his own control over her. It was a typical case among sadist, having to have control over others.

But one thing was bothering him.

He'd been watching them interact since Drake's first major breakthrough in therapy. Diana demeaned and mocked Drake, belittled and derided him. She'd even gone so far as to cause him bodily harm the other day in the gym. These were all clear signs of having control over someone else; she was portraying a level of control over Drake. Drake, as predicted, should react not only negatively to these attacks, but also violently. The whole basis of sadism is demanding absolute control over others. And yet, Drake did very little more than glare at her or send insults back. While he might lash out physically in rage at guards or other patients who'd done much less to him, he had steadfastly refrained from making so much as a truly physically violent gesture towards Diana.

He had been sure that the basketball privileges would have been enough to draw out Drake's true intentions. He'd been positive that he would take the opportunity and attack the pretty much defenseless Diana while they'd been alone.

The doctor frowned, massaging his temples as he tried to think it through. Drake Merwin truly made no sense to him. He'd dealt with sadists before without any major issues. Perhaps it was because he was still a teenager, ensnared in the hold of fickle but passionate emotions. Whatever it was, there had to be a reason he was refraining from attacking the very person he claimed to want to kill the most.

Perhaps it had something to do with their past. After all, he knew very little about the FAYZ, other than what had been publicized and put on the news. Drake certainly wasn't forthcoming with information. Coates Academy, too, was very hush about all of its past students, more than likely having been paid off heavily by their more rich patrons to avoid scandalizing their children, though it had been made known that the worst of the children of the FAYZ—both Drake Merwin and Caine Soren—had come from Coates. Though, why they were named the worst of the children was also kept very hush.

_Hm…Caine Soren…_The doctor paused at that name. Hadn't Drake mentioned that name? That was right! _'Caine Soren, the biggest prick ever_.' He and Diana had been dating. The doctor frowned a bit. It was clear that Drake did not get along with this Caine Soren, and that through him he must have surely not gotten along with Diana. Yet, why did he now seem to get along so well with her? Was it because this Caine person was gone? And who was Caine Soren? He'd heard of him on the news but his parents had made sure to quell most of the talk with their hefty donations.

He needed to learn more about this Caine person. Perhaps he would be able to shed some light on just what had happened in the FAYZ. He knew that many psychologists and therapists across the country were still trying to figure it out, and while most of the kids opened up to fixing their own mental problems, they never did go into detail just what they'd experienced within their dome. It was like they all had some unspoken consensus not to share what they'd witnessed.

_Caine Soren_, he thought again, frowning.

**-Break-**

"You've got to be kidding me," Diana stated the following Friday, shooting a basket. Drake moved to take the same place as she had. He made it as well. Diana went to find somewhere harder to shoot from.

"Nope," he said, popping the 'p' and watching as she stood on the three-point line and shot. The ball bounced harmlessly off the rim. He grinned and went to fetch it, finding his own spot on the three-point line to shoot. He made it, forcing Diana to shoot from the same spot. She missed again. "That's an 'O'," he informed her with a smirk. She glowered and chucked the ball at his head. He snickered and caught it, moving for his next shot.

"Drake, you didn't throw a desk at a teacher," she refuted. "Even you aren't that crazy."

He grinned, shooting and making it before turning to her as she went to get it. "He ticked me off. Talking about, 'Mr. Merwin, perhaps if you didn't spend your nights wasting away your brain cells and contemplating your sick visuals than you'd be able to answer the question.' Or something like that," he said. "So I threw my desk at him," he bragged, moving to let her take his spot.

"Contemplating your sick visuals?" Diana repeated, shooting and making it. Drake snatched up the ball, moving to another spot.

"I don't know. That might not have been exactly what he said," he waved her off, not looking towards her. Diana watched with a glower as he sunk another basket.

"I didn't think the teachers at Coates were supposed to talk about the students issues," she observed, moving towards him, recovered basketball in hand. "I also don't remember ever hearing this, and I would have."

"That's because it didn't happen at Coates," he corrected, as she shot and made it. "About four months before I got there."

"Was that why you got transferred?" she asked. He'd never really talked about why he'd been sent to Coates. "Too violent at school?"

"No, pretty sure it was because I shot that kid that I got transferred," he contemplated coolly, completely blasé as he swiped up the ball and ignored her shocked features.

"You mean you shot someone before coming to Coates?" she questioned. "The FAYZ wasn't your first time killing someone?"

"I didn't kill him," he refuted, eyes flickering to her before settling back on the basket. "Or so they told me."

"Wow, you really are insane," she murmured as the ball bounced off the rim harmlessly. He scowled while she grinned, moving to get it.

"He annoyed me," Drake defended.

"A lot of people annoy me, Drake, but I don't go around shooting them," she threw over her shoulder as she lined up her shot. She scowled as it missed again. Drake snickered once more.

"Probably because you'd miss," he informed her.

"Shut it, Merwin. You're the unstable one. People are annoyed by others everyday but you don't hear of people constantly killing each other," she growled.

"No, they just take the annoying ones and lock them up somewhere," Drake muttered, snatching up the ball and eyeing the basket from his spot. Then he turned around and shot the ball over his head. Diana wanted to kill him when he made it and sent her a cocky smirk, but the fact that she didn't only proved her point.

"At least you're admitting you're annoying," she shot back, shooting and missing it. She growled, clenching her hands in irritation.

"'R,' Ladris," he called out, fetching the ball and moving quickly to make another shot. "And I'm not annoying," he said almost petulantly.

Diana ignored him, simply grinning when she made the shot and stuck her tongue out at Drake maturely. He rolled her eyes at her, eyes searching for his next shot. They shot a few more times without comment until Drake broke it, just before Diana made her shot.

"How many more weeks are there in this semester?" he asked, sounding oddly reserved.

Diana paused in her shot, thinking. "Eleven or twelve, I think," she stated, before looking over at Drake. "Why?"

"No reason," Drake grumbled, gesturing for her to shoot. She did, missing again, making her scowl and turn towards him. He grinned.

"'S,'" he added. "Only one more letter and you lose, Ladris," he warned her.

"I know how to spell 'horse,' Drake," she grumbled back, moving to get the ball before moving in front of him and shoving it in his hand. She didn't move from in front of him though. "Why did you ask?" she questioned him seriously. His eyes flickered away, under rouse of lining up his shot, but Diana knew he was just avoiding her gaze.

"I told you, no reason," he repeated, "Now move, I can't shoot with you in front of me."

She didn't move, still glaring up at him daringly. His eyes finally went down to meet hers. He huffed.

"Just wondering," he said casually.

"Wondering…what I'll do after the semester's over?" she tried aloud. Drake flinched minimally, but she caught it, smirking. "Awe, is Drake going to miss me?" she cooed teasingly. He glowered at her.

"Get out of the way of my shot, Ladris," he growled lowly.

"And he doesn't even deny it," she sang aloud, skipping from his direct line of shot. He just scowled, shooting randomly and missing horribly.

"I'm not going to miss you," he growled defensively. "I'm just wondering how much longer—" He immediately cut himself off, teeth clicking shut.

"How much longer…" Diana prodded, a small smirk on her lips as she stepped closer. "What, Drake?" she breathed out, now only inches from him.

His eyes were flashing dangerously, but they weren't cold. The flames in his eyes told her it was still relatively safe. He still wasn't FAYZ Drake; she could still push his further.

"You have to be with me?" she asked lowly.

"How much longer I have to kill you," he growled lowly, leaning just a bit closer. She smirked in his face.

"Try again," she repeated his words from weeks ago, revealing she knew him just as well as he knew her.

Except, Drake wasn't as easy to push as she was. When he didn't want to say something, he wouldn't. Though, she thought she got her answer when his hand dug into the back of her scalp and his mouth roughly slammed into hers.

Their teeth clanked against each other painfully, making her jerk back, but his hold on her head kept her from doing much more than putting an inch between them. He was panting slightly, his lip bleeding as his eyes bored into hers.

"How much longer you'll visit me," he murmured out against her lips before pulling her forward once more, though less violently. Diana didn't pull back this time, letting his tongue sweep across her bottom lip before slipping between them. She let one hand travel up his arm to his hair while the other fisted in the bottom of his shirt and drug him closer. He had no problem with that, pressing against her while keeping their lips sealed together.

Diana hated to admit it, but Drake wasn't just a not bad kisser; he was good. Very good, even with the taste of blood from his busted lip. Much better than Caine had been, though she wasn't sure that was saying too much as Caine had always acted skittish when doing anything like this with her.

Eventually, she had to breathe, pulling away and opening her eyes to looking into his hooded ones.

"You won't come after your class ends," he murmured lowly against her lips, voice just barely audible, eyes staring directly into her. "I'll go back to being alone."

Diana didn't comment, just tugged him closer again and kissed him once more. Inside, though, her mind was whirling around Drake's words. _Alone_…She'd never thought of Drake being lonely. It simply wasn't something one thought about when referring to Drake Merwin. But then again, one didn't think he had crushes on people—as in, normal teenage boy crushes—or that he had feelings in general.

Drake pulled away this time, turning and going to get the ball. He tossed it to her, waiting at the basket to get it after she shot like nothing had happened. After a moment, she brushed off the interaction as well and aimed. Neither commented and she shot in the silence, missing it with a scowl. He smirked, snatching it out of the air and dribbling to a different spot. Diana just rolled her eyes in annoyance as he made another backwards shot.

"Is that even legal?" she asked, trudging to shoot from the same spot. He shrugged.

"Not really, but it isn't exactly illegal either. Just go ahead and lose," he told her, grinning as she went to shoot. His eyes widened slightly, however, when the ball went in with a swish. She grinned, triumphantly.

The next series of shots ended without result, Drake making them followed by Diana. She was pleased at being able to hang on, even managing to give him his second letter in the process. However, it all ended as she watched her next shot go flying off the rim. Drake grinned as she scowled.

"I win," he boasted.

"Yeah yeah," she grumbled, going to put the ball away. It was almost time for the doctor to come anyways.

"You know, they probably won't let me do this anymore after you leave," he thought aloud, surprising Diana that he'd bring up the conversation from earlier again, especially since he'd been the one to cut it off and act like it hadn't happened. She looked towards him, putting the ball on the rack.

"If you keep playing nice they will," she informed him.

"I don't play nice," he growled, smirking dangerously with sparks flaring up in those gray orbs.

"If you did, you'd be one step closer to getting out of here," she commented, making him pause. She looked up at his face with an eyebrow raised in question. "You mean you haven't even thought about getting out of here?"

"Not much," he shrugged. "I figure the only way that's happening is if I break out and security's too tight for me to do that," he explained simply.

"Drake, if you prove to them you're sane they'll let you out," she pointed out.

"But I'd have to be sane to prove that I am," he also pointed out, mockingly.

"At least you admit you're not," she muttered, before turning back to him. "These people have fixed people before you, you know. If you really wanted to, you could get better."

"And why should I want to get 'better'?" he growled his question.

"Well, then you could come see me and not be alone," she explained simply, not meeting his surprised eyes as she looked towards the door, waiting for the doctor.

Drake wanted to comment, to ask for an explanation of what she meant by that, but his mouth shut immediately as the door opened and the doctor walked in, smiling at the two who appeared to have been waiting for him.

"Who won today?" he asked them pleasantly as they walked towards the door side by side. His eyes observed them closely.

"I did," Drake grinned mockingly at the girl next to him while she only glowered.

"You cheated," she claimed.

"Did not," he growled.

"Did too. You used backward shots."

"I told you those aren't technically illegal," he stressed. "Besides, you made one, didn't you?"

"Still, you cheated. It's the only way you can beat me," she huffed, looking away.

"Is not," he denied, teeth clenched. The doctor chuckled quietly at their childlike argument before thinking now to be a good point to intervene.

"Well, I'm sure you two can have a fair game next week," he spoke soothingly. Neither of the teenagers responded. "Diana, you're class will be leaving soon," the doctor reminded her.

"Right," she nodded, heading out the door in front of Drake. She paused before leaving, turning to look over her shoulder and right into Drake's eyes. "Play nice," she told him seriously, speaking quietly. The doctor frowned in confusion, wondering the significance of the words. Drake looked away, not responding as she turned and left.

"Ready to go?" he asked Drake.

"Hmph," the boy huffed, following the doctor.

**-Break**-

Diana didn't show up the next week. The doctor came instead, informing Drake that he'd just been told by her teacher that she was sick and was absent today and had been yesterday as well. Drake scowled, wondering what this meant for him.

"If you'd like, you can stay and shoot some baskets by yourself for a while," the doctor offered.

Drake eyed the basket, then went to grab a ball. The doctor took this to be a positive.

"I'll come back later then," he spoke, leaving the court.

Drake clutched at the orange ball, looking at the thing in his hand. His hand clenched in anger before he chucked the thing angrily at the basket. It slammed loudly against the backboard and flew away, bouncing to the other side of the gym.

Drake's hand was fisted as he glared at the ball. Why'd she have to be sick? He only had so many more days with her as it was, he didn't want to miss one because she was 'sick'. He started stalking towards the ball, only to pause mid-court and sit suddenly, putting his elbow on his knee, his hand in his hair, and looking at the ground.

Why did it matter if she came? She was just Diana, nothing special. He didn't need her. But…but last week…

_Play nice_, she'd said. His teeth clenched at the thought of this last week. How many times he'd held in his anger, he'd refused to let his body cause harm to others just for being annoying. Apparently, that wasn't a good enough reason to hurt someone, according to all-knowing Diana. But why had he done it? Because she'd said he could get out? Because she didn't believe he was a lost cause like everyone else, including himself? He knew he was sadistic, knew he wasn't the same as everyone else, yet she—the one person he'd tried and threatened to kill more than anyone else—thought he still had a chance of becoming normal. Like this doctor could 'fix' him or something.

"I hate her," he murmured lowly, hearing the growl in his own voice. "I hate Diana Ladris."

_But I need her_, his mind added, making his fist clench painfully in his hair. "I don't need anyone," he spoke again, refuting it. _I need her to be here. I need her with me._

_I need her to approve of me._

He hissed at that, recoiling from the thought. He needed no one's approval. Not the doctor's, not the other patients', not his father or his mother's, and _definitely_ not Diana Ladris'.

His teeth ground together in his anger. He didn't need anything from Diana, except for her to die. He'd only left her alive this long to fool with her mind. It wasn't because he _liked_ her, like that doctor apparently believed.

How sick did a person have to be to miss two days of school? He couldn't remember ever being sick for more than a day. Maybe the chicken pox or something, but didn't that usually happen to little kids? Maybe something was really wrong…

_No_, he stopped his mind. He wasn't worried about her. He wanted her to suffer. If she was sick, he hoped it was painful. Maybe even fatal. _No_, he refuted again. Not fatal. He wanted to be the one to kill her, not some stupid illness.

He licked his lips to dry them, mind automatically drawing up memories of kissing her, of having her body pressed against his. He tried to shake the images away. He wasn't like pathetic Soren; he wouldn't be controlled by Ladris. He wouldn't be controlled by _anyone_.

_What about the Darkness? _his mind reminded him. He grumbled under his breath. That'd been different. The Darkness had given him his Whip Hand. It hadn't controlled him, he'd merely chosen to follow it. _He'd_ chosen, not been forced to.

His hand clutched at his head as he lowered his head, his legs pulling a bit closer as his memories surfaced. He'd chosen…he'd _chosen_! He hadn't been controlled by the Darkness. He hadn't…he'd been in control of himself! He had! Everything during the FAYZ, everything, had been him. Completely him. It hadn't been because the Darkness could send that searing pain through his mind at any moment. It hadn't been because it could make him feel like his head was being split it two. It hadn't been because he'd been scared of it. Ha! Drake Merwin was scared of _nothing_, especially not some stupid Darkness.

He stiffened, instantly curling in on himself more, expecting the pain for such a thought. Only, it didn't come. The Darkness was no more; it couldn't reprimand him anymore. It didn't control him anymore.

_It never controlled me_, he refuted in his mind weakly, knowing it was a lie. He'd been played like a puppet. He'd been its slave from the moment it'd used the Healer to give him that Whip Hand. But now, his Whip Hand was gone. He was free. He was in control of himself again.

_Yes, me. Not Diana. Not the Darkness. Me_, he repeated, eyes automatically landing on the stump of his right arm. He bit his lower lip, clenching his teeth at the sight. He didn't have his arm. He was handicapped, broken. Useless. Powerless. His whole frame shook with a powerful mixture of rage and hopelessness. His eyes clenched shut and he ignored the moisture he felt gathering in the corner of his eyes. He was in control. He was strong. He didn't need two arms. He didn't need Diana. He didn't need anything or anyone!

Drake continued to shake, his hand nearly pulling his hair out by the tight hold it had on his head. He was almost completely curled up now, blocking the world from seeing his weakness that was trailing down his face. He wasn't crying. He wasn't, dammit. He was in control, especially of his own body, and he said he wasn't crying!

Suddenly, he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, the feeling of an arm settling around him and pulling him against another body. His head snapped up, glaring at fury at whoever had dared touch him, dared to see him in this state. His eyes blinked as Diana's blurry form appeared. She smiled gently, not speaking, before reaching forward and pulling him closer again, hugging him. He stiffened. What was she doing here? He thought she was sick.

After a moment of the quiet, however, he relaxed a bit, realizing she wasn't going to mock him for this. He finally wrapped his one arm—_one arm_, he thought despairingly—around her and pulled her into his lap, hiding his face against her shoulder as the tears refused the stop. She brushed her fingers through his hair and down his back gently, but still said nothing.

They stayed like that for who knew how long, Drake's trembling frame eventually calming down. He lessened his hold on her, sighing and opening his eyes. He blinked rapidly, however, to see his lap empty and no Diana to be seen.

"What…" he began aloud, head jerking around quickly. _She'd been here…hadn't she?_ He winced, a sharp spike of pain telling him he now had a headache. His hand went up to brush his temple slightly while he tried to figure out what was happening.

_Maybe I really am getting insane_, he thought. But surely he hadn't imagined it. Diana _had_ been here…right? He'd touched her, felt her, smelt her. She couldn't have been a figment of his imagination.

He frowned down at his hand. He had control, he thought, fisting his hand. Especially of his own mind. No way he was hallucinating. _I mean, why would I imagine Diana here when I've having a breakdown anyways_? He scoffed. So of course it'd really happened, even if it made absolutely no sense as to why she wasn't here now or how she'd gotten in silently and left from his own lap without him noticing.

Setting the whole thing behind him, Drake stood and wiped at his eyes brutishly, walking to pick up the basketball from earlier. He shot hoops silently until the doctor showed up to retrieve him.

**-Break-**

Diana rolled over in her bed, giving her muted TV her back. She let her eyes close, trying to ignore the ache in her throat and stomach. Some stomach virus had had her throwing up for the last two days and she felt horrible.

"Diana? Are you awake?" her mother's voice called softly, her door opening just a crack.

"Mom," the teenager called, rolling on her back to look towards her door and wincing as she felt her empty stomach rolling with the movement. She grabbed at her middle, feeling as if she was about to be sick again.

"Oh, honey," her mother cooed, stepping into the room and sitting at her daughter's side, grabbing the bowl on the floor and sitting it on the bed beside her ill daughter in case she needed it. "Is there anything I can get you?" she asked her, brushing her daughter's sweaty bangs out of her face.

"Something warm?" Diana asked hopefully, sounding truly pitiful. But she didn't care. She had her mother back and she'd take care of her. She wasn't in the FAYZ anymore; she didn't have to be strong all the time or only trust herself.

"You want some hot broth to sip?" her mother suggested.

"That'd be great," Diana croaked, coughing horribly. Her mother looked at her worriedly and, after she'd stopped, grabbed the damp rag that'd been placed on the desk.

"I'll refresh this as well," her mother told her, standing. "Is there anything else I can get you?" she asked, still, even after a year, just happy to have her daughter back where she could take care of her.

"No, I'm good," Diana told her, watching her mother leave. Then she sighed, snuggling deeper into her blankets and trying to ignore the queasy feeling in her stomach. She was so happy to be home. So happy to be done with that nightmare, the FAYZ.

She would never admit it, but she really did feel bad for Drake sometimes. Being locked up constantly, the FAYZ never really was over for him. He was still living it, every day. She really didn't blame him for lashing out on occasion, but she also didn't understand why he wasn't doing all he could to get out. To finally taste the freedom he hadn't had in so long.

Her cellphone suddenly vibrating on the desk beside her jerked her from her thoughts. She groaned, grasping wildly as she let her arm leave the warmth of under her blankets, though refusing to turn her head and roll over to look for it. After a few blind gropes, she managed to get the phone in her hand, answering the call before she'd even brought it to her ear.

"Hello?"

"Diana."

It really only took him saying her name for her to know who it was. She would know his voice anywhere, no matter what he said or did to try to disguise it.

"Caine," she answered, letting just a slight smile cross her features. She didn't think she'd lost all of the feelings she'd once held for Caine, but it was now more of a pleasant fondness that erupted in her whenever he was mentioned or she spoke with him. She no longer thought she'd ever really loved him and doubted he loved her, but he continued to keep in touch with her, which she was glad for. She liked talking to him; it was familiar and easy.

"And how are you?" he asked her pleasantly, a soft snap in the background telling her he'd just closed his laptop. How she was able to identify the sound was explained because Caine always stopped doing whatever he was doing whenever he called her. He said that when he called her he wanted to give her his undivided attention and not be thinking about homework or other stupid things. She'd laughed.

"Sick," she croaked back, and at the moment another coughing spell hit her. She trembled a bit as she got herself under control, pulling the phone back to her ear. "Sorry," she offered him.

"You sound horrible. Have you been to the doctor? Will you be alright?" he asked her, sounding slightly worried. If any good came from the FAYZ, it was that Caine had stopped hiding his emotions quite as much. Well, to her, anyways.

"Just a bug. I'll be fine in a day or so," she told him. "What about you? How are things in New York?"

"Boring," he told her, sighing heavily. "Plus, father's already telling me to begin thinking about colleges and what not. It's been a stressful last few weeks. Everyone around me is an idiot," he summed up everything pretty quickly with his last sentiment.

Diana laughed lightly, "Well I guess I win as far as interesting things happening," she told him.

"What happened?" he asked her, curious.

"Well, remember I told you I was taking that Psychology class?"

"Yes," he said. "What about it?"

"Well, part of the grade comes from going to a local psychiatric facility every Friday and spending some time with a particular patient before doing a report on them at the end of the semester. You'll never guess who my patient is," she stated, sounding smug.

"Well if I won't guess then just tell me," he said, impatiently.

"You're not even going to try?" Diana asked, pouting slightly.

"I don't know…Jack?" he asked, sighing.

"Well, your thoughts are in the right direction…" she teased. She could tell he'd tensed even from over the phone.

"You mean, someone from…?" he trailed off, but he didn't really need to finish it.

"Yep," she practically sang, mind forgetting her sickness as she enjoyed holding this piece of information over Caine's head.

"Who?" he asked, suddenly much more intense.

"Guess," she instructed him again. He groaned over the phone, annoyed.

"Perdido Beach or Coates?" he asked her.

"Coates," she answered. He hummed and she gave him a minute to think.

"Brianna?" he asked.

"Nope."

"Dekka?"

She hummed her negative.

"Who else…" he grumbled, sounding like he was talking to himself. "Bug?"

"Why don't I just save you from your hopelessness?" she offered, exasperated. _Really_, she thought,_ how could he not guess the _one_ person they'd all been sure belonged in an asylum before the FAYZ had happened?_ Not to mention that, besides her, he'd spent most of his time with him.

"Please do," he answered simply.

"Drake."

The other end of the line instantly went silent. She couldn't even hear his breathing; she hoped she hadn't killed him.

"Caine?" she asked. "You there?"

"You mean you've actually seen him?" Caine hissed lowly, like he trying to hide something. She furrowed her brows in confusion.

"You say that like he's locked up in some secret government facility. We all saw his court sentencing, remember?"

"Yeah, but I didn't think they'd put him in just any asylum. I figured he'd be in some extra-hold government thing, so they could do something about that whip. He hasn't tried to hurt you, has he?"

Without reason, suddenly Diana's mind drew up a memory of Drake's lips sealed passionately with her own. She blushed, hoping it wouldn't convey over the phone. "He's sort of like he used to be back at Coates before everything. And he doesn't have his whip anymore," she added quietly, feeling a pit in her stomach which wasn't the sickness. It almost felt like she was betraying Drake by telling Caine his weakness. She shook the thought out of her head though; that was entirely ridiculous.

"Doesn't have it anymore?" Caine questioned slowly.

"…They cut it off," she said quickly. "Just above the elbow, to make sure it wouldn't grow back."

She wondered if Caine shuddered just as she had. She could still remember the first time Drake had needed his arm cut off. She could still hear his screams as he begged someone to put out the flames and threatened to kill anyone who touched him. She could feel the heat of his burnt arm, the warm flesh beneath her hand and the saw in the other. She could still remember the rough action of sawing through his bones, the saw dull and most likely making the process even more painful. She could also remember the whimpers that had come from Drake's mouth once he'd been unable to scream, the tears that had streaked down his face as he'd struggled to get away from Diana's cutting arm from under the pressure of Caine's hold. It'd been the hardest thing she'd done in all her life, up until Panda.

"Why would they pair you up with him?" Caine asked, suddenly. "Don't they know you were both in the FAYZ?"

Diana blinked in confusion, about to correct Caine and tell him _she'd_ picked Drake, when she paused. Maybe it was best Caine didn't know she had voluntarily chosen Drake to work with. He probably wouldn't understand it.

"I don't know. I think it was because of that that they did it, actually," she lied.

"Don't they even know what he did? They should know that no one who was in the FAYZ would want to be paired up with him," he groused.

She rolled her eyes. "He's actually not so bad. He hasn't attacked me, believe it or not, though I hear of him getting in fights with other patients all the time. He's still got the threats though," she added.

"He's always had threats," Caine muttered. "Look, be careful, Diana. I know this'll probably be an easy assignment considering you already read his psych file and you can't get more in depth knowledge than that," he added, "but don't get hurt for an easy 'A.'"

She laughed lightly. "Caine, he's surrounded by guards all the time and has shackles on his ankles. He doesn't have his whip and looks positively sickly. At this point, I bet you even Astrid could beat him." Okay, so she lied. Those guards weren't around all the time, the shackles weren't either, and even without the whip he was deadly. Plus, he'd been looking better and better with the increase in physical activity; he was still pale, but he didn't look quite so ill and skinny.

"Even so," Caine spoke. "I don't like it."

"You say it like I do," she pointed out. Caine huffed, but didn't comment any further.

"_Caine_."

Diana paused to let Caine answer his mother's call.

"What?" He had pulled the phone away from his mouth, but Diana could still hear him clearly.

"_There's someone on the main phone for you._"

Caine sighed, bringing his cell phone back to his ear. "It appears I'm going to have to go," he informed her, sounding disappointed.

"I'll talk to you later then," she told him, wondering if she'd be able to hang up before he started their usual argument. It was not to be, however.

"I love you," he told her quietly, whispering the words. Diana frowned. If there was one result she did not appreciate from Caine's therapy, it would have to be that by the end of it he'd somehow come to the belief that he was in love her. In the FAYZ, she would have loved to hear those words from him-though she'd probably be feeling the same level of doubt as she did now-but now that she'd worked passed her own feelings and discovered that they were more about the familiarity and safety he'd offered than love, she wished he'd be able to come to the same conclusion and let them both move passed it. So far though, nothing she'd said had changed his mind.

"I know you think you do," she answered back, just as quiet.

"Again, Diana?" he asked her. Every time he tried to tell her how he felt about her, she'd always deny it, claiming he didn't know what he was talking about. That he was confusing familiarity or general liking for love.

"You know I won't ever think you really love me, Caine," she told him.

"I'll prove it to you," he vowed, like always.

"And I'll be waiting for that day," she answered, also just like always. The end of their calls were done by near script by now, both of them having had this argument multiple times. "Bye," she finished, feeling tired.

"Later," he added, just before they both hung up.

Diana sighed, setting her phone on her bedside table and looking up at the ceiling with drooping eyes. Caine didn't love her; he didn't know how to love. And she didn't feel like she still loved him. She wasn't even sure anymore if she'd ever loved him or just felt safe around him. The latter was certainly possible, considering all the enemies they'd had and Caine's previous powers.

At that point, Diana's mother pushed open her bedroom door, smiling kindly with a steaming mug in one hand and a newly wet rag in the other. Diana smiled. "Thanks, mom," she told her, sitting up a bit and letting her mother take care of her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Okay, wow. I'm so happy you guys are liking this so much. X) Seriously though, this is not good, since this is exams week. I need to be studying but instead I'm putting on the finishing touches so I can post new chapters. And since I can't really write right now, I'm running out of my leeway; you're catching up too fast!**

**In fact, I was going to save this chapter for Friday, as a sort of "End of First Exam Week" celebration but...I guess I can do that with chapter seven. Here's chapter six, because you guys are awesome! Just don't expect another update until Friday, at least. I want to finish up chapter nine before posting seven.**

**Also, I haven't said this, but much thanks so all my anon reviewers! I can't really respond to you guys personally, but I always love to hear from you! **

**Chapter Six**

The following Friday found Diana in a gym staring with a raised brow at one glaring sadist.

"What?" She questioned him, noting his odd glare.

"You don't look sick," he accused. She rolled her eyes.

"That's because I was sick last week," she pointed out, moving to grab a basketball. "I'm better now."

Drake huffed, annoyed, but he accepted the ball when she checked it to him. "Two-on-two, horse, or tips?" He questioned, looking from the ball in his hand to the girl in front of him.

"Two-on-two," she answered, smirking as she crouched in front of him. Drake shrugged his shoulders, confident in his ability to win no matter what they played, before checking the ball back to her. "You get ball first," he informed her mockingly. "You'll need all the advantage you can get."

"Oh shut it, psycho," she jeered, though she had a pleasant smile on her face as she said it. Drake decided not to take too much offense as he crouched slightly, waiting for her move, so he only sneered in derision back.

It didn't take long for Diana to try and rush his right side. Drake nearly rolled his eyes at how predictable she was as he shuffled to block her approach to the basket. The game was on.

After playing for almost an hour, both of them were sweaty and panting though they refused to give up. The score was never more than three apart, both determined not to lose. Diana now had the ball, dribbling it in front of her body while Drake stood behind her, blocking any attempt at nearing the basket. She scowled at him as she looked over her shoulder; he grinned cockily in return.

Even with only one arm, it wasn't difficult for him to reach around her, swiping at the ball. Diana jerked it away, hearing him grunt his annoyance. The next swipe from his left arm brought her moving to the right, where she suddenly ran into something. Quickly turning her head to see, her eyes landed on Drake's shortened right arm.

It had been cut just above his elbow, making the limb only around a foot long. Generally, Drake seemed to keep the wounded limb close to his body, like he'd lose the rest of it if he dared even move it, which was why she was so surprised to see him using it now to block her. Somehow he must have become comfortable enough around Diana to employ it in their game. The usage of it threw her off.

All of this occurred, of course, in the matter of milliseconds it took Drake to swipe the ball from her, turn, and rush the basket for two points. He smirked back at her as that put him in a four point lead before noticing her look.

"Diana," he growled. Her attention was on his right arm, making him fight the urge to shuffle insecurely. He turned his left side towards her, hiding his right arm from view as he glared at her. She finally looked up to meet his gaze, her eyes strange. "What?" He barked, fighting a blush. Why was she looking at him like that?

She didn't say anything, only walked towards him until she stood right before him. He fidgeted. What was suddenly so captivating? Why wouldn't she stop looking at him like that? It was making him feel…weird.

Diana's hand raised, almost subconsciously, as her fingers brushed his right bicep in a gentle caress, slowly dragging them down until they paused above the scarred flesh.

"It wasn't a clean cut," she observed aloud.

"I wouldn't stay still," Drake grumbled, his own eyes refusing to look to where her fingers were resting. He'd spent many a night with his eyes focused on the same spot, mourning his lost limb. At this point, he wasn't even sure which limb he was missing exactly. His whip or his actual human arm. But no, instead, he only watched her, his eyes looking for Diana's true thoughts.

"They didn't knock you out?" She asked, surprised.

"They'd given me some stuff, but they quickly decided removing my whip couldn't wait for the sedatives to actually take effect. They started working towards the end though and I passed out," he told her, barely moving as her fingers continued to softly brush up and down his bicep.

"You were fighting," she thought aloud.

"No, I was just going to sit there quietly and be dismembered," he muttered sarcastically. Unbidden by him, his eyes flickered to the stump, his jaw tightened at the sight. His mind itched to fist his hand. His _right_ hand.

Diana finally brought her fingers to the end of the stump, tracing the jaggedly healed cuts. She felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as she felt his cut bone just under the thin layer of healed skin.

She'd done this. That first time. It'd been her hands that had sawed away at his arm like it didn't matter. She'd done it brutishly, without sympathy. She'd turned a blind ear to his screams and cries of pain, had ignored the tears that had stained his face. It had been the only time she'd seen Drake cry, though it very well could have been the only time he'd cried in his life. She wondered if he'd cried when they'd done it this time, with the drugs having not moved through his system. She shuddered at thinking he'd relived that pain, feeling the same horror and hopelessness as they tore him apart.

She didn't want him to have his whip hand, of course, but the thought of someone who didn't know of its horror, didn't understand what he'd done with it and what it meant, removing it…it just seemed so wrong. The doctors had had no idea what Drake's whip had meant to him or to the children of the FAYZ. They'd had no right to do it. Only one of them, one of the people who'd felt the sting of its crack against their skin, had had the right to do as they'd done. She frowned at the thought.

"What are you thinking?" Drake questioned lowly, voice rough.

Her eyes flickered up to meet his, the gray orbs dark with questions. He was watching her steely, not quite sure how to react, trying to tell what she was planning. But of course he was, she thought. They'd never gotten along before and, despite her many insults, Drake wasn't stupid. He wasn't a genius by any means, but he was far more observant than any person she'd ever met and he had a fairly good memory. Maybe it was the predator in him, fueled by his sadistic disease, but those dark eyes of his never failed to take in minor details most people would overlook and he never let a single piece of information that might be useful fall be the wayside. A mastermind of Caine's standards he was not, a genius like Astrid no, but he was definitely a predator. Perhaps it was that about him that had let him thrive so in the FAYZ. It had been a place built for the strong to survive and the weak to die, and Drake was by far a survivor.

As her eyes stared into his, observing, her frown became a bit more pronounced. The FAYZ had affected all of them, true, but it had left more scars on some than others. Not only did Drake bear one of the few remaining physical scars dealt by the dome, he also bore one of the worse mental ones. And it wasn't necessarily because of the dome itself, but instead because of what had resided in the dome. The Darkness.

Diana hadn't really thought of the monster that'd lived in that old mineshaft since Caine had mentioned it, just in passing really, before he moved. He'd told her not to tell anyone about how it'd attacked his mind, rooting itself within and pulling at him like a fish on a hook. Apparently there'd been some silent consensus between all of the inhabitants of the FAYZ because no news crew had ever done a single mention of the radioactive cave monster. She figured that no one wanted to be the crazy kid that had to explain it, especially since none of them had ever seen it or had even ever really been sure what it was. Bringing it up was a surefire way to end yourself up in an asylum.

But as she remembered Caine as he'd been when he'd returned from that place, ranting and only half lucid, she couldn't help but compare that to Drake. Caine had spent three days in that monster's company; Drake had spent months. It was a miracle he wasn't drooling on the floor right now. In fact, he had to have been the only person in all of the FAYZ that could've been able to still be standing after such an encounter. Caine had gone crazy after three days; Lana had turned near suicidal; Sam had nearly lost it after being in its presence for only a few minutes, and she knew of no other person who'd encountered it.

_I'm thinking about you_, she wanted to answer his earlier question. _I'm thinking about how strong you are. I'm thinking about how you alone beat the Darkness. How it didn't break you. How you're still you, even after months of its torture. _

_I'm thinking about how maybe you have a reason to be angry, a reason to lash out, a reason to hate._

"I'm thinking about how glad I am you don't have you're whip hand anymore," she said instead, adding the lilt of a mock in her voice.

Drake sneered at her, pulling away from her touch brutishly. She hadn't even realized she'd still been tracing the scars at the end of his right arm. "You should be because I would be strangling you right now," he hissed, irate. His eyes were dark with hatred, freezing her own eyes which refused to look away. _This_ was Drake. Not some whimpering, crying, screaming boy whose arm was being cut off. No, Drake was an angry, sadistic teenager who'd lived through one of the worst tragedies to ever strike the U.S.

"Key words: would be. But you can't now, can you?" she spat back hatefully, watching him recoil as if she'd struck him. His jaw was tight, his teeth ground together in his fury. His left hand—his _only _hand—was convulsing horribly, clenching and unclenching in his ire.

"Bitch," he hissed low, mouth barely opening as he gave her the insult. Diana was truly surprised he hadn't attacked her yet; in fact, she wasn't completely sure that wasn't her goal. She didn't think she did, but if she didn't, why couldn't she help pushing him so?

She couldn't look away for him eyes, watching the wrath inside him swirl, building into flames of malevolence. When was the last time she'd seen someone react so passionately to something she'd done? Even Caine had never given her such a rush. Maybe it was Drake's sickness, or maybe she was sick too, but she'd always felt a sense of power whenever he'd get so worked up just over something she'd said or done. For a moment, she controlled him. She determined whether he'd lose it or if she'd pour water on the fuse and let him calm down.

"Kiss me," she ordered, sounding breathless. Drake didn't even give her time to think of where that'd come from.

His hand fisted in her hair, tugging the locks painfully as he claimed her mouth violently. His tongue roved her mouth as he pressed her against him. Diana could barely think, let alone breathe, but she didn't even try to pull away, instead tugging him closer as she fisted her hands in his hospital-order shirt.

Drake started walking suddenly, forcing Diana to step backwards as he kept her lips sealed to his. She imagined they almost looked like they were dancing, with his even steps guiding hers backwards as she followed his lead. Diana jerked away from him as her back hit the wall, gasping for breath as Drake nipped her jaw, mouth trailing down her neck as his hand left her hair to tug her shirt collar to the side. He gave her an open mouth kiss on her shoulder, where her shirt would cover it, before his hand left to settle at the small of her back, forcing her even closer to him. Diana's hands slid up his chest and around his neck, pulling him closer as he sucked lightly on her skin, bruising it.

Drake pulled away after a moment, eyes flashing brightly at the sight of the mark he'd left on her. He smirked dangerously, sealing their lips together again at a much more reserved pace, slowly claiming every inch of her mouth as his own before drawing back to breathe deeply. Diana rested her forehead to his, both of them breathing heavily as they met the other's darkened gaze steadily.

Had she ever felt something like this before? Had anyone ever attacked her so passionately, claimed her so unabashedly? Caine had been her only real boyfriend, and he certainly didn't compare, nervously seeking her approval before acting in terms of romance. If this was how Drake approached the opposite sex in terms of a physical relationship, then Diana could believe that he'd already had sex as he'd claimed. Maybe in the FAYZ, maybe before. She'd probably never know, but she had more reason to believe him now.

Diana watched as the fire in his eyes slowly simmered down to a glowing ember. He was watching her too, waiting. Neither of them was really prepared to try and analyze whatever was happening.

"What was it like?" she murmured, deciding to ignore their current situation in favor of getting some answers from the typically closed-mouth boy. Her fingers twirled in the locks of darker hair at the nape of his neck absentmindedly. "What was the Darkness like?" she clarified.

Drake's eyes closed to her then, just for a moment, before he reopened them, the coldness that had entered into those gray orbs during the FAYZ now back. He didn't look away from her gaze, though Diana could feel the slight tremble in his body just before he regained control, muscles tensing.

"It was my master," was all Drake murmured, mind clearly elsewhere. Remembering.

"By choice?" she asked seriously, voice low.

"…sometimes," he hesitantly revealed, a shiver running up and down his spine. "But sometimes…not," he added quietly. "Sometimes by punishment."

"What was the punishment?" she asked him, curious. Caine had never been willing to talk about it; she'd never learned more than its name, which he'd screamed in his sleep: Gaiaphage.

"Pain," Drake told her and now he really was trembling, his body seeming to lean closer, in search for some promise that the pain wouldn't come back. His eyes finally slide shut as he rested against Diana. "It felt like it was tearing my head in two whenever I'd tell it 'no'. It didn't like to be told 'no'. It wanted Nemesis, that was all it talked about, but I didn't care about Nemesis."

"Nemesis?" Diana asked. She hadn't heard that one from anyone else in the FAYZ.

He let out a short, bitter chuckle, though his eyes never came to resurface. "Astrid's Pe-tard of a brother," he told her shortly. His eyes finally opened, showing her cool gray orbs. "Turns out, he was the one who caused the whole thing. Funny, huh? Especially since all I had to have done in the beginning is not miss, and all of it would have been over a lot sooner."

Diana only stared at him in shock. Surely he meant when he'd been ordered by Caine to hunt Astrid and her little brother. If he hadn't missed…all of it would have ended then? Back before the hunger, the bugs, the immortal Drake, the war…Panda. Everything. The whole idea that it all had counted on a single bullet not hitting the target…it blew her mind.

"Seriously?" she questioned lowly.

Drake hummed, head dipping to press his lips to the side of her neck. Diana wasn't sure, but it almost seemed like he was hiding his face from her. She felt the bridge of his nose tracing up and down her jugular and she bent her head back automatically, giving him free reign while she tried to process all this information. Perhaps that was too much to try and handle at the moment.

"What was it like to be immortal?" she asked instead, questioning him on something she'd wondered about for a while, still holding him close as he seemed to be more willing to share when he didn't have to meet her judging gaze. His lips skimmed down her neck to her shoulder before he rested his forehead on it, his own arm pulling her just a bit tighter against him.

"…disturbing, at first," he admittedly lowly. "You watch a part of you be burned off or cut off, can feel the pain of it, only for it to grow back a minute late. After I got used to it though, it was amazing. No hunger, no thirst; or, I could feel them, but I could also ignore them. They wouldn't kill me. And sure, other things still hurt, but I could ignore them too because they'd be healed just a second later. The only real downside was that damn Britney," he growled, tensing as he remembered before huffing and easing his hold on her, as if being careful not to hurt her by squeezing to hard. Diana inwardly was surprised by the consideration and wondered if he'd done it on purpose or just subconsciously.

"Could you two talk? In your mind?" Diana questioned, curious.

"No," Drake revealed, shaking his head slightly at the same time. "And I'm glad; she sounded like a freak."

Diana snorted lightly in humor. "Says you," she pointed out, speaking to the top of his head.

"Says me," he responded in a low mumble, not rising to her taunt.

"Then how'd you get her to work with you?" Diana asked, realizing Drake was in a mood to talk serious for once.

"The Darkness tricked her for a while at first, made her think she was seeing her brother and was on some mission from God," he began. "But once she realized she was tied to me, it wasn't until I got free from Orc and this kid started traveling with me that I managed to get anything through to her."

Diana's mind suddenly reminded her of something he'd mentioned in the past.

_I fed a boy who'd helped me to those same bugs and watched as they tore him apart…And want to know something else I did…? I laughed. In everything I did, I laughed through it all._

"The boy who'd helped you," she whispered.

"His name was Jamal," Drake informed her. "He'd fallen through the floor with Orc. I threatened him and he did whatever I told him, including tie me up whenever Britney was coming on the scene. He was also the one who delivered my messages to Britney and convinced her to work for the Darkness. But when I got to the mine and found it full of rocks, those giant bugs showed up. The Darkness meant for them to be my army. And my army was hungry," he spoke steadily, voice revealing nothing.

Diana felt horrified. She wasn't sure how she was meant to react to that.

_…I laughed. In everything I did…_

"You…you laughed? Even then?" she asked, voice shaky.

"Even then," he murmured, lifting his head to speak the words directly into her ear. She couldn't help the shiver that went up her frame at that. He pulled away, finally meeting her gaze, and she was able to make out his thoughts a little. His eyes were frozen solid, pure replicas of the uncaring orbs he'd held in those last months of the FAYZ. He wasn't repentant. He didn't care that he'd killed Jamal, sent him to a horrible death even though the boy had helped him greatly.

"Why?" Diana asked quietly, internally begging him to give her a reason. Any reason. Just not that he was insane. Not that he enjoyed it. Because Caine may have been a sociopath, but when push came to shove, he'd saved her. He'd cared. Drake couldn't not care about anything. There had to be _something _he valued above his own selfishness; something beyond guns or blood.

Drake only shrugged. "They were hungry and wanted to eat him. What was I supposed to do? Let them eat me?" he explained simply, unapologetic.

Diana shoved him away from her, face shocked and disgusted. Drake's features morphed instantly, all openness and mild gentleness he'd been emanating turning into a harsh snarl with icy orbs. "What? Wasn't expecting that? I already told you what happened; why are you surprised?"

"What kind of monster laughs as someone who's helped him is ripped apart alive?" she hissed accusingly.

He growled, teeth visible as his lips pulled back, much like a snarling animal threatening its prey, though surprisingly he didn't say anything. His eyes flashed and his mouth opened, ready to deliver some sting, but he seemed to pause, bite his tongue and catch the words before they could tumble past his lips. That was more of self-control than Diana could exhibit at the moment, however.

"Oh, I forgot, an insane sadist like _you_. That's the kind of monster," she spat, glaring at him. "Someone so pathetic they don't even possess enough human emotion to understand care. God, it's a wonder you weren't sent to jail. You're the worst of the worst! A pathetic monster without a shred of self-control!" she yelled loudly, right in his face. If she'd been paying attention at all, she would have noticed as with every word from her lips Drake's outer appearance got calmer and calmer and his eyes grew colder and colder. Now with his gray orbs like uncaring frozen icebergs, he took one single, menacing step forward. Diana finally shut her mouth, eyes widening as she pressed back against the padded wall, finally—_finally_—picking up on the killing intent emanating from the boy.

"Monster," he repeated, hissing the word in her face, his eyes boring holes in her own. She was captured, unable to look away. She could feel herself gasping for breath, like he'd stolen it all just by looking at her, and though she tried to get herself to stop, to keep from showing him weakness, the prey simply can't control themselves when they were caught in the gaze of the predator about to kill them.

"I'm a monster…?" he spoke again, voice low and dangerous. His eyes flashed, only this time it wasn't with heat or sparks or some mischievous thought. He wasn't pre-FAYZ Drake right now. No, his eyes were sparkling like pieces of ice, glinting off any and everything.

He was still leaning closer and Diana was finding it harder and harder to get enough oxygen. She had flattened herself against the wall, again subconsciously, but even still he crept closer until his mouth brushed the top of her right ear.

"What kind of _monster,_" he hissed the word, "eats another human being? What kind of monster bites into someone's flesh and _likes_ it?" he finished hatefully, making Diana's breathing stop completely, eyes widening with horror as her frame started shaking.

_Stop_, she thought, unable to get her mouth to work.

"Little Panda tasted good, didn't he, Diana?" he continued malevolently, voice cold and mocking. "You can still taste him, can't you? Still smell the scent of cooked meat, still feel your mouth water."

_Please…stop_, she pleaded in her mind. She couldn't move, frozen completely as she listened to his accusations, unable to deny them and hating herself all the more.

"Even I, a monster without caring, would never eat another person, Diana," he spat, pulling away to make her face the judgment in his icy orbs. "Even a sadistic monster who doesn't understand caring, who can't even control himself, Diana, wouldn't do what you've done." He leaned closer, but this time he didn't turn to the side, instead moving forward until he was right in front of her, his breath mingling with her own as his eyes stared straight into hers.

"What does that say about you, hm, Diana?" he asked in a whisper, a mockery of a caress.

"Diana!"

The door slammed open, Dr. Raymond and four guards rushing into the room. It was easy to spot the two teens against the wall, Drake seemingly keeping Diana trapped against the wall. However, as the doctor called her name again, worriedly, Drake pulled away from her and sent him a sinister glare from over his shoulder, making the doctor hesitate. He'd never…he'd never seen such an…inexplicably _evil_ look. He fought back the fear rising in his chest, forcing himself to go around the boy to Diana, who'd collapsed to her knees as soon as she'd been released from Drake's entrapping gaze.

The guards were quick to grab Drake, forcing the shackles back on his feet before getting him into a straitjacket and holding him tight, even though he hadn't moved an inch to fight. Instead, he was back to looking at Diana, staring at her from down his nose like she was the most disgusting thing he'd ever seen.

"Diana?" the doctor asked, gently touching her shoulder. She shivered, head suddenly jerking around the room to see she was no longer alone with the sadist. She had tears running down her cheeks, though the doctor wasn't even sure if she was aware of that. She looked totally in shock. A quick glance over told him that it didn't appear that Drake had caused her any physical harm, though it looked as if he'd caused some sort of horrible psychological damage.

"Take him to solitary," he ordered seriously, looking towards the boy and expecting a another glare. Instead, Drake was still watching Diana, waiting for…something. Finally, he smirked wickedly, his lips curving into a horrible, tainted grin before he threw back his head and laughed loudly. The doctor looked down to see that Diana had looked back up at Drake and was now watching him with a horror-stricken look on her face, frame shaking and face pale. She was clutching her middle, as if she were about to be sick, and Drake was still laughing.

"Get him out of here," he ordered again, watching as the guards shoved a yielding Drake towards the door.

"Man, I'm starving!" Drake stated loudly, just as the guards went to open the door. Diana flinched as if he'd struck her and Drake started laughing again. He could still be heard even as the door was shut. A few moments passed before it was finally silent again in the gymnasium.

"Diana?" Dr. Raymond tried. "Did he hurt you? What happened?" he asked her gently. "Are you okay?"

The girl was still staring at where Drake's disappeared, shivering occasionally. She moved slowly, turning to look at the doctor with tears still visible.

"No," she spoke quietly. "He…he didn't do anything," she added. Her eyes broke away then, looking down at her hands in her lap, eyes seeing the charred piece of meat—piece of _Panda_—that she'd held not that long ago. The juices had stained her hands, the flesh had stained her lips, the act had stained her soul. But it hadn't been Drake's fault. He hadn't forced her; hadn't even been there. He hadn't even committed the sin himself. But she…she had. She'd done it. It was her fault. Her…all her.

She sobbed, refusing to let her hands wrap around herself even as she longed to do just that. Her hands were tainted by the act. She instead sobbed openly, hiding her face with her hair and completely oblivious to the worried doctor shuffling awkwardly beside her. He wasn't sure what had happened, what Drake had done exactly, and he didn't want to cause her more pain in his attempts to help.

_Panda_, she thought despairingly. _I'm so sorry_. She didn't know what she thought would happen; that maybe God would allow her thoughts to be heard by the boy or what. She didn't know if she was praying or expecting an answer. Just what did she want? What was she expecting? Forgiveness? She'd never get forgiveness! Not from Panda and certainly never from God. And never ever _ever_ from herself.

_I should have just died. Damn Caine for catching me_, she thought bitterly, biting her bottom lip until she could taste iron. Why couldn't he had just let her die? It wasn't like he was having this much of a problem with their actions. He couldn't have cared less if it was a human or a cow he'd eaten; all he'd cared about was his stupid ideals and stupid plans and stupid stupid stupid thoughts of being a stupid king over a bunch of stupid weak _hungry_ children!

Suddenly, a ring erupted from Diana's pocket, startling her from the pain if only for a moment. She staved off her crying, reaching into her pocket on autopilot to grab it. The name that flashed on the screen did not help her, though. She screamed, standing and chucking the device as far as she could. It slammed into the padded wall loudly before falling to the ground, the screen cracking as the call ended.

"Dammit Caine!" she yelled at the device. "I don't care! I don't fucking care what's going on in your stupid life or what stupid ideas you have about love! I don't love you and I never will! I hate you and everything you remind me of!" she cried, tears still coming as she yelled. "I hate you, I hate you, I _hate you_!" But even as she said those last words, she wasn't sure who she was talking to: Caine or herself.

"Diana," Dr. Raymond finally spoke, reaching forward as she began to shake uncontrollably. "Diana, you need to calm down," he told her, voice soft. "Before you hurt yourself."

"And you!" she whirled, eyes flashing as a few tears were flung from her face in the fast movement. The doctor stepped back, surprised.

"You and your stupid ideas and medicines and whatever," she spat. "I'm not one of your patients, okay? I'm not crazy. I'm not and I don't need you patronizing me!" she accused him, glaring harshly. "I'm not crazy," she repeated. "I'm not a monster. _I'm not Drake_!"

She stopped after that, just huffing, anger seeming to have left her in a moment as she gathered herself. She shakily exhaled, wiping at her eyes before stalking over to her phone, swiping the device up and shoving it in her pocket, ignoring the small cut the broken screen gave her finger.

"I'm leaving," she told him. "And tell that _sadist_ that I never want to see him again," she added, before stomping out of the gym without a backward's glance or another single tear.


	7. Chapter 7

**So, yeah, it's been a bit longer than I was expecting to be able to update. All my homework sort of piled up during exam week last week so I had to get caught up before I could really work on a chapter. Hopefully you like this chapter, though. Lots of surprising things happening in this one. :) Also, for once, I'll have an AN at the end of this chapter so ttyl!**

**Chapter Seven**

The Monday after, Diana glowered at her reflection, brushing her hair off her shoulder to reveal the mark once more.

_Damn sadist_, she thought vehemently, pointedly keeping her mind from drawing up memories of exactly how the mark had come to be.

She'd made a deal with her teacher after he'd spoken with the doctor. She was now exempt from the remainder of the trips and from the assignment, though now she had to do an alternative assignment of making a presentation on the last three chapters of their book, which they weren't going to have time to cover properly. She hated Drake Merwin.

Her eyes flickered from the mirror down to her cracked cell phone that was sitting by the sink. She sneered at it automatically. She hated Caine, too.

Both of them were psychotic, idiotic, narcissistic, uncaring jerks; self-absorbed beasts who would never be able to truly understand what it meant to care for another human being. And she was through with them both. Done. The FAYZ was over and she didn't need either of them anymore.

Not that she'd ever really needed Drake in the first place.

She scowled. She'd only had to deal with him because of Caine needing him for his stupid plans. She would have gladly walked away the day he started yelling all sorts of insults at her, only Caine holding him back keeping him from attacking her like a rabid animal. It was a bit different from the impression he'd made just the day prior, when he'd walked up looking nervous but gruff and tough at the same time, getting out the broken question of if she wanted help with her bags that her father had just dumped into the street.

She'd thought how lucky she was, already having captivated a quite attractive, clearly strong male in her grasp, and because of it she might have flirted a bit, pleased when he'd tried to hide the slight color that had tinted his face. She'd been really impressed when he'd picked up both of her suitcases without any trouble; she knew how heavy they were and it'd taken her dad some struggling just to lift one. She had thought, when he'd smirked slightly after placing them in her room, finally past his nervousness enough to talk with her normally, that he'd liked her too. At least maybe had some interest. The next day, when Caine had revealed that he was friends was Drake and he was meeting him for lunch, she'd been happy to take his offer to join them. But when she'd smile at him, she'd watched in confusion as his features had morphed into a frown. Never one to hold back her tongue, she'd made some comment—she couldn't really remember what she'd said—hoping to pull him out of his slump, maybe get another smirk for her trouble.

Only, she hadn't known that Drake didn't take lightly to someone mocking him. He'd blown up instantly, admittedly frightening her. She didn't really want to know what might have happened if Caine hadn't reacted as fast as he had, though now she figured he'd probably known that would happen. Had maybe even been counting on it.

She frowned at that thought, eyes moving back up to land on the bruise-like mark on her shoulder. Had Caine done that on purpose? He and Drake had known each other before she'd come into the picture; no doubt he'd had some idea of how Drake would react while in his presence. Had he planned it so that Diana wouldn't like Drake anymore? After all, any girl would steer clear of the angry boy who'd tried to kill them.

_Whatever_, she thought, ignoring it all as she moved her collar to hide the mark, grabbed her phone, and walked outside to drive to school. Caine certainly hadn't been there this time, and Drake had still blown up. Clearly Drake was just too sick to have any sort of relationship with another living thing.

"Diana," one of her friends—Leah—called as she stepped from her car in the school's parking lot, smiling slightly as Diana waved back before joining the group.

"Morning," she offered the three of them: Leah, Alexa, and Jen.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Jen spoke, getting right to the point. Diana frowned, leaning against Alexa's car and raising a brow.

"Tell you what, exactly?"

"That one of the psychos attacked you at the asylum," Jen told her, rolling her eyes. "I mean, that's something kind of worth mentioning."

Diana's brow furrowed. How did she know?

"And now I hear you're exempt from the whole assignment," Alexa added, pouting. "Which is totally unfair. This girl I'm talking to has amnesia and can't remember anything, so I have to repeat myself every five minutes."

"I knew there had to be some drawback to that hottie you picked," Leah stated, calmly. "I mean, no way someone with chains on their feet was a safe bet."

Diana rolled her eyes. "It was nothing really. Drake's just a sadistic, self-absorbed asshole," she summed up quite simply. Just then, the bell rang, making all four girls begin the trek to class.

"Still, I wish my girl would throw a yelling fit while I'm there. This is the world's stupidest assignment," Alexa grumbled, annoyed.

"Well, I have to make it up with a three-chapter presentation. Would you rather do that?" Diana replied, peeved. "Like it was _my_ fault he can't control himself," she added in a mutter.

Alexa winced. "Okay, that sucks," she summed up, while the other two nodded.

"Just as long as I don't have to ever see him again," Diana spoke on the matter one final time, voice even.

The other three just shrugged, not really understanding her vehemence on the matter. They had seen that he hadn't actually hurt her; they just didn't understand why she was acting like she'd known him for all this time and he'd betrayed her or something. They'd been doing this assignment for, what? Eleven weeks? Twelve? How was that long enough to get this worked up over someone?

Instead, all three entered their classroom, taking their seats and talking about Leah's latest boyfriend, putting the entire incident behind them.

Or, Diana tried to.

**-Break**-

Drake wasn't brought to the activity room the following Friday. Neither was he brought to the basketball court. In fact, he hadn't left solitary since the previous Friday.

Not that it mattered to him. The look on Diana's face, so completely shattered…it still brought a grin to his face. He could feel the excitement flare up at the memory of the tears that had erupted from her eyes, trailing down her cheeks and washing her smooth skin in their salty distress.

He snickered to himself, rolling over and trying to get comfortable on the floor. He'd opted out of lying on the bed at the moment for whatever reason, instead staring at the ceiling with a peaceable look about him as he stretched out on the cool tiled floor. He was finding it pleasantly ironic that they'd started and ended their little…'tryst', or whatever it'd been, over the same thing.

No doubt he wouldn't be seeing Diana again. He was mildly disappointed he wouldn't be able to actually kill her, but he figured that he'd done enough damage that she might just be suicidal now. He grinned to himself once more; now wasn't that a pleasant thought? Maybe they'd even catch her before she finished it and sentence her here? He laughed out loud, though in his mind he knew he'd never be that lucky. For some reason, luck or karma or whatever had never really favored him.

A pathetic monster without a shred of self-control, she'd called him. He snorted. _Who's pathetic now, Diana?_ He thought vindictively. He couldn't help but relish in the moment when she'd finally broke, remembering how her entire body language had screamed 'prey'. He could still see her fighting for oxygen, pressed as far back against the wall as possible. To get away from _him_! She'd been terrified of _him_! He grinned happily at the thought.

And then there was that moment. Just as the water had leaked over her eyes and begun its trail down her cheeks. Oh, how in that moment he'd wanted nothing more than to lean forward and lap up her salty pain. He licked his lips at the thought. He would bet it would taste delicious, surely almost as much as it was to actually kiss her.

Drake sat up suddenly, his entire mind screeching to a halt as he scowled.

_Almost?!_

No. No, surely it was _better_ than kissing her. That's what he'd meant. Certainly something as stupid as swapping spit couldn't taste any better than the physical proof of Diana Ladris' pain and suffering. He'd have to be insane to think that—he paused those thoughts, mentally correcting them. He'd have to...to…he searched his mind for the word. What could possibly make him think that her pain could be _almost_ as good as kissing her?

_…the doctor seems to believe that you like me._

Drake's eyes widened. _No_, he denied vehemently. He didn't like Diana Ladris. He didn't like anybody.

_…he started going over some comparison of you to normal people…Something about how normal people show their affection with kindness, while you show it through wanting to hurt that person the most. And then he mentioned how fixated you were on killing me as opposed to Sam or Caine, who actually did something to you, and somehow he made it all sound believable…_

_No, no, no, no, _NO!

He roared angrily, clutching at his head in denial. He didn't like Diana Ladris! He didn't! The whole idea was stupid! She was a stupid, pathetic, sarcastic bitch who did nothing but mock him and hide behind people. He couldn't—_wouldn't_—ever like someone so _weak!_

In his mind, he could see every interaction between then, all the way back to their first meeting. He could remember the minute he'd first seen her, how he'd thought she was mildly pretty. How'd he'd thought she'd be so much prettier with tears down her face and blood covering her. And then she'd gone and opened that mouth, framed by those soft, full lips, and had insulted him. That was the first—and certainly not the last—time Caine had had to come between them. Only then, he hadn't had that freakish power. Then, he'd just been a normal boy, struggling to keep Drake's stronger frame from punching Diana in the throat. Let's see her mock him with a broken wind-pipe, he'd thought hatefully. From that day forward, he'd hated her. It'd only grown as they'd worked together, Caine constantly stopping him from harming her but also forcing him to stay close to her.

The FAYZ certainly hadn't made them buddy-buddy. And now…now.

He still hated her. He still enjoyed the sight of her pain. He didn't like her, dammit! What could possibly make him like her? What was any different now that hadn't been true then? If he'd had potential to like her, why was it coming up now and not back when he'd first met her? If she'd managed to so easily ensnare Caine in her hold then—and just about every other boy she attempted—why would it have taken her so long to lodge her wretched fingers into his mind?

He. Did. Not. _Like. Her!_

He roared again, standing and kicking at the bolted down chair, relishing in the painful throb that erupted up his leg sending every nerve on fire with the dull sting of pain. His fist slammed into the wall. As he stared at it, he noticed a single, minuscule drop of blood marring the perfect white of the walls. He paused, breathing heavily, angrily, as he raised his fist to his face to study the barely bleeding cut he'd made on his hand.

Without thinking, he began punching the wall again and again, mind ablaze with rage as his eyes took in more blood—_his_ blood—marring the walls. He was yelling, almost screaming, though he didn't have a presence of mind to pay any attention to what he was saying.

_Damn Diana. Damn Diana. Damn Diana!_ He roared in his mind, suddenly feeling restraining arms encircling him, keeping him from continuing his attack as a prick in his arm told him that he'd already been given a dosage of sedative.

_Damn him,_ he was thinking, maybe talking out loud, he just didn't know anymore. All he knew was that he was suddenly oh-so exhausted. His eyelid fluttered as he fought sleep, mind not focusing on the doctor above him as he was placed on the bed. Neither was he thinking of the girl who'd started all this mess. Instead, he only saw one face. One, smirking, taunting, dark-haired-framed face looking down on him with a superior look.

"_Drake_," the vision spoke, mouth curving in distaste even as his eyes flashed with his holier-than-thou thoughts.

"_Caine_," Drake hissed hatefully, loathing swirling within him just before he slipped into unconsciousness.

**-Break-**

Dr. Raymond stared at the silent boy, pondering. Until today, he hadn't really reacted in any strange way since the whole Diana thing. But today, he'd completely lost it. He'd punched the wall hard enough to bust two of his knuckles and strain his wrist, which meant he was basically armless at the moment as he had to wear a sling to keep himself from jarring it and breaking the bone completely.

And then there was there at the end, just as the sedative had started to work and he'd been just about to slip under. He'd whispered a name: Caine. No doubt the same Caine from before, the one who'd gone to Coates Academy with both Drake and Diana. The one Drake hadn't liked. The one who was known, in addition to Drake himself, as one of the worst children who'd been in the FAYZ.

The doctor frowned, eyes narrowing. He was missing something, something important. It was clear that Drake had a problem with Caine, he'd sort of figured it, but he hadn't been expecting Diana's own breakdown the previous Friday. The fact that she, too, seemed to have much built-up hatred for this Caine confused him more than anything. Hadn't Drake said she'd been dating him?

"Are you going to tell me what triggered your episode?" he asked seriously, leaning forward just slightly and placing his connected hands in front of his mouth, his elbows on the table.

Drake didn't even react, mind elsewhere as his eyes focused on something only his mind could see. He wasn't tense in the least, though from the frown on his face he clearly wasn't thinking happy thoughts.

"Drake," the doctor spoke, drawing the boy's attention. The boy glared at the doctor, lip curling up defensively, like a wounded animal still trying to warn off predators.

"Was it that you couldn't see Diana?" he questioned, staring right into the boy's eyes and watching as they became more and more cold, hatred on such a great level stored just behind those dark orbs.

"Did it have something to do with Caine Soren?" he asked directly, watching as Drake's eyes widened slightly before he snarled animally, leaning forward to hiss angrily at the doctor. Still, though, the boy refused to speak. "Perhaps with the FAYZ?" he prodded, really just taking shots in the dark, trying to find the trigger. He felt so close to a breakthrough with Drake. If he could only get him to talk, to finally unleash all of the thoughts and anger he'd been holding in, perhaps they could finally make some progress. "Maybe something that happened in the FAYZ?"

"What the hell would you know about it?" Drake spat suddenly, eyes flashing with cold lightning. "What could you possibly know about anything?! Huh?! You weren't there, okay? None of you stupid adults were! You think you know what happened, think you understand, but none of you have a fucking clue what it was like!" Drake was ranting now, eyes livid as he yelled at the doctor. The doctor had to keep himself both from shrinking back and from smiling. _Finally_.

"You weren't there when everyone started getting their powers! You weren't there when the food started running out! You weren't there when the Darkness came, when Caine lost it, when _I_ lost it!" he yelled, chest heaving. The doctor tried to soak everything that the boy was releasing in, knowing he'd been listening to the tapes of this session again later.

"You didn't feel the hunger, the thirst, the _fear_! Dammit, you adults don't know a damn thing! You weren't there during the war, you didn't see those damn bugs, you never felt yourself being cooked alive by some kid who can shoot fucking lasers from his hands!" The doctor blinked in confusion, having no idea what Drake was talking about but knowing it was all very _very_ important.

"You never felt that _thing_ in your head, telling you what to do, making you feel like you were being pulled apart when you didn't listen," he hissed, voice suddenly low but no less enraged. "You have no idea what it's like to be thrown against a ceiling by the force of someone else's mind. You don't know what it's like to watch and feel yourself burning, inch by inch, or to be cut apart into pieces, only to form back together seconds later. You don't get what it's like to go _months_ without a single scrap to eat or a single drop of water, and you _feel_ it, feel that burning aching pain deep in your bones, but you _still don't die_. You'll never have to share your body with someone else, never feel yourself morphing into some_thing_ not even _alive_, something you _killed_, feeling your bones and skin shifting and then _you're_ not _you_ anymore and it's like you don't even _exist_, just floating around in no-man's land waiting for your _turn_ to use your own damn body.

"You don't even know what I'm talking about," he finished, exhaling angrily, violently breathing as the doctor tried to process what he'd just heard.

_Clearly_, the doctor thought warily, _this 'FAYZ' has caused Drake to exaggerate to exponential proportions as well as believe he was schizophrenic. _He didn't think he was working with two different personalities, so clearly Drake had overcome the latter after the dome fell. But the rest of it…no one could live months with any food and water or have themselves cut into pieces and then be put back together and live. But still, this was a major breakthrough.

Perhaps Drake had thought he'd had a different personality to relocate him from difficult situations, perhaps to prevent himself from being blamed while his body attacked others. The exaggerations were surely just a way for him to express how horrible he felt things had been, though he did recall that many of the children from the FAYZ had either claimed powers themselves or to have known others who had possessed powers, though no one had witnessed anyone using these powers since the done had become transparent towards the end. Once it had fallen completely, it seemed everything supernatural had gone with it. Perhaps one of the children had burned Drake.

His eyes landed on the boy's missing limb. That was right. There'd been burn marks on the end, just before his skin had met the smooth, red skin of whatever that tentacle-like thing had been on his arm when he'd first arrived. No one had had a single idea as to where it'd come from or how it'd happened and Drake hadn't been forthcoming with information. They'd wanted to send it to a lab and have it studied, but the moment they'd cut it free from Drake's person it had shriveled up and disintegrated into dust. They hadn't been able to learn a single thing about it.

Of course, Diana or one of the others might know something, but it was like it was taboo to bring up Drake to any of the other FAYZ survivors. It seemed that many of the children had deep rooted traumas due to Drake specifically. They worked fine through their therapy, but one mention of Drake Merwin could send them screaming back into their nightmares.

"You're right," Dr. Raymond finally spoke, making Drake jerk his head up to look at him, the boy's long dirty-blond bangs falling in front of his eyes. "I don't understand anything of what you've told me, but I can't help you if I don't understand. So why don't you explain to me what, exactly, you went through in the FAYZ?" he questioned lowly, calmly. "I'm not trying to judge you, Drake. I simply want to help you move past this tragic event," he placated.

Drake was watching him like a hawk, eyes wary. But there was something else in there too and the doctor could see it. Exhaustion. Drake was tired, and if he was lucky, he was tired of holding things in. It might just be time to really begin the treatment of Drake Merwin.

"I…" Drake spoke, head bowed forward as he began hesitantly. "I…hate you," he finished anticlimactically.

"I realize that, but I'm the only person willing to listen," the doctor pointed out, not exactly kindly. But in this whole process, he'd learned that Drake did not react well with kindness. Instead, the boy seemed to prefer brutal honesty and harshness.

He heard Drake sigh, still not moving for a long time. Technically, the therapy session's time-slot had run out nearly twenty minutes ago but he didn't dare cut Drake off, not now.

"My dad was a police officer," Drake spoke. The doctor blinked, confused. He hadn't really expected that beginning. "My mom was a real estate agent. They were both busy a lot." He paused again. The doctor was getting the feeling that Drake didn't share this much.

"I...got bored with the sitters all the time. It was never the same one in a row. I'd scare them away. If mom and dad couldn't get a babysitter, then one of them would have to stay home with me," he spoke, sounding almost pleased. "One time, dad stayed with me and showed me his guns. They were so cool. I really like guns," his voice was getting easier, though he'd yet to look up. "He let me hold one and taught me the proper way to load it. He even took me to the shooting range that Saturday to practice. It was awesome." It was clear these were fond memories to Drake, as he sounded happier and more at peace than the doctor had ever heard.

"But then, this new guy came to the school. He was two years ahead of me. He thought he was going to rule the school. He grabbed my book bag and poured everything out into a puddle one day when I wouldn't give him my money." Drake's teeth must have been clenched, as the words were coming out tightly.

"Then he started shoving me into walls whenever he'd walk by, cutting in front of me in line, tripping me during gym. I hated him," he growled lowly, dangerously.

"So one day, he heard me talking to this other kid about this new game I had. He told me he wanted it and if I didn't give it to him he was going to beat me up. I had begged dad for months for that game, no way was I giving it away. Mom got mad and yelled at me when I came home that night and tracked mud in the house; she didn't say anything about the bruises, limp, or black eye that I'd had the next day though," he growled, vindictively. Dr. Raymond was quietly listening, beginning to understand where this was headed.

"At school the next day, he told me the same thing. For three weeks, I went home every day after school only to be caught in this alley or pulled behind this building. But then I remembered something: dad didn't keep his guns locked up. They were just in their case on the really high shelf in their closet."

"I told that kid the next day in class that I would give him the game, but he had to follow me home to get it. He did. I told him to wait in the living room while I went and got it. I dragged a chair over to the closet and stood on it. I was just barely able to, but I managed to pull the gun case down and got the gun loaded, just like dad had taught me. Then I walked downstairs and, when he asked me where it was, I pointed and shot. He was lucky I didn't hit his head like I'd wanted."

After that, Drake got quiet, not speaking again for a long time.

"And that was how you got sent to Coates?" the doctor prodded.

"That was how I got sent to Coates," he murmured, finally looking up to show unfeeling eyes to the doctor. "I wish I could meet that kid again, doc. I wouldn't miss this time," he stated evenly.

"I thought you were a…bully at Coates Academy. Why would you take up the personality of someone you hated?" he asked.

Drake smirked darkly. "I had always been a 'bully', doc. It was just that one kid who'd been above me. But see, at Coates, I had a fresh start, and I swore to myself that I'd be the ruler there. No one was going to mess with me because I was going to be the top of the food chain. And I had been. Until _Caine_," he seethed, angry.

"Caine was stronger than you?" he asked.

"No, he was a _freak_," he hissed. "He was nowhere near my level, but then he got those stupid powers and thought he was some big shot. Then he wanted to order me around, to tell me what to do. I don't like being told what to do, doc," Drake pointed out menacingly.

"So then Caine started treating you just as the first boy from your childhood had," the doctor concluded. "So you wanted to kill Caine too because he bullied you."

"I wasn't _bullied_," Drake stressed, eyes flashing angrily. "I _was_ the bully. I was who everyone was afraid of. _Me_! Not Caine! But now I had to answer to the Great-and-Fearless Leader before I could do anything. Anything I had, everything I wanted, it was all _Caine's!_" he yelled angrily before huffing.

The doctor suddenly felt something click in his mind and he leaned forward a bit, face serious. "Everything you wanted was Caine's…like Diana Ladris?"

Drake stiffened, eyes widening. He was staring at the doctor in surprise, thrown completely for a loop. It was clear he hadn't been expecting that.

"No, I…I never wanted Diana," Drake refuted, struggling to gain control over his reactions.

"Or, maybe you had a crush on her, but Caine spoke with her first? Turned her against you? And then you wanted to hurt her, fixated yourself on her, because if you couldn't have her you certainly weren't going to let Caine have her. She was your game and, since you couldn't shoot Caine with your dad's gun, the only thing you could do was break the game before Caine could take it from you."

Drake was speechless, staring at the doctor like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of some way to deny it. No, that wasn't right. He hadn't…he didn't…

How had that first day gone again? Drake was having trouble remembering. He'd hated her because she'd made fun of him from the first moment. He'd never had a crush on her.

Only, he could remember…vaguely, something different happening. That hadn't been the first time. The first time had been the day before, on moving day, when all the new students came. Drake had been out front, looking for any new competition, when she'd stepped from her father's car moodily and slammed the door shut angrily. Not exactly a rare sight at Coates; it was almost always the parent's choice for the children to be here and none of them were really happy about it. The surprising thing had been when her dad had gotten out, scowl on his face, and stomped to the back of the car, throwing out two large suitcases as she glared at him. Then, he'd left without a backwards glance, the girl left standing in the middle of the road with two red, huge suitcases that she'd never be able to carry on her own.

Drake hadn't known what had possessed him, but he'd already been moving towards her. He'd had trouble speaking at first when she'd looked up to meet his eyes, her's a dark brown that had captivated him. After stuttering a bit and fighting back a blush, he'd managed to get out an offer to carry her bags for her. She smiled then, hand brushing against his arm flirtatiously. Then, the movement had made his skin spark with electricity, but now he knew it was just Diana knowing and expecting him to fall under her spell. He'd lifted the heavy bags fairly easy, telling her to lead the way.

She was beautiful. Her long hair falling down her back and swishing with every step as she walked in front of him. She'd been asking him questions and he'd answered her as best he could, quickly getting where he could speak to her like a normal person and not an embarrassingly pathetic wimp. When she'd turned around after he'd placed her bags in her room, looking up at him with a small smile on her face and brushing his forearm with her fingers, offering her thanks, he'd never felt so completely transfixed. He could remember going back to his room and—he paused, visage morphing as he growled lowly.

And he'd told Caine.

"She was mine," Drake hissed under his breath possessively. "She was mine and Caine took her. I saw her first. I talked to her first. She was _mine_," he repeatedly claimed, anger building.

"Do you think this is why you hate Caine so much? Why you hate Diana so much?" the doctor asked.

"She had to have remembered me. Why did she go with him?" Drake asked. "I've always been stronger. And Caine was such a stuttering embarrassing wimp. He never got over it; always caving to anything she wanted, always hesitant to even hold her hand. So why did she go with him?" he demanded. "Did he look better than me? Was it because he was nicer? Surely she didn't like him being so pathetic and spineless."

_And suddenly_, the doctor thought to himself, _he sounds almost like a normal teenage boy._

"Perhaps it was because you started being mean to her. She must have thought you were no longer interested in her," he pointed out.

Drake frowned at that, eyes focusing on the table as he thought. From that second meeting, when she'd come over with that smile with _Caine_ of all people, and then made that comment…he hadn't really thought. He'd only seen Caine's eyes flash in victory, his smirk at him claiming he'd won, and then he'd just blown up. But he could see it now; her face faltering just momentarily as he'd yelled at her, Caine's arms holding him back from under his own. Her smile had fell just slightly, seemed a bit more forced. Her smile…had it been for him? Had she been smiling at him and not because Caine? Had he ruined it in that moment?

Just like he had last Friday?

Drake didn't know what he was supposed to do now. Clearly he'd accepted that maybe he might kind of like Diana. But what did this therapy help anyone if they just made them realize stuff _after_ they'd screwed everything up? And besides, even if he _did_ meet Diana again—which was very unlikely, let's face it—it wasn't like he was going to suddenly change and be all nice. He wasn't about to become some pansy like Caine and bend to her ever wish and will. He would never be some weak, spineless plaything to her. And he _definitely_ wasn't going to sit there and _tell_ her all this. That was bullshit and his doctor would have to be bat-shit crazy to expect him to.

"I might…think that maybe…I didn't act in everyone's best interest last week," he grumbled out, refusing to meet with the doctor's eyes. The elder man was smiling slightly. That was the closest he'd ever heard of Drake Merwin coming to admitting he regretted something he'd done. This truly had been a breakthrough.

"I believe that perhaps you didn't also," he spoke. "But now that you can see that too we might just be able to figure out how you can move past it," he suggested.

Drake looked up, a frown on his face. His eyes though, which were really the telling points on the teenager's face, were looking almost…eager, at least slightly. Perhaps he really was ready to begin the process of healing and moving past the mental disease he'd lived under for so long.

**So yes, I'm going to attempt what has never been attempted before (at least, I don't think it has. Correct me if I'm wrong). I'm going to try to make Drake Merwin normal while keeping him IC. Who thinks it's possible? **

**...**

**I might have bit off more than I can chew. But what the heck, right? Let's give it a shot!**

**Also a note: I apologize for the minor OCs appearing in here. They're not going to get much if any more screen time. I think the only OC with any lasting value would be the Doc. And sorry for the names; I suck at naming characters.**

**Another note: Okay, it's been a long while since I've read any of the books and I don't remember very much in terms of details. I also don't have time to read them all, as I've noted before. Thus, I apologize if I get any of Drake's back story wrong. You'd think I'd have my favorite character's history memorized at least but I just don't, so I'm sorry but I'm going to be taking some fanfiction writer's liberties. I'm trying to fit in everything I can remember, but as far as detailed scenarios...look, I don't remember what his mom was like (or even if she was mentioned in the books...I feel like she must have been), I don't remember why he shot that kid, and I can't really remember much of anything about any of these kids. There's too many back stories in this series, on top of all the other multitude of messed up shows/books I watch/read. So again, I apologize. Hopefully you like my rendition. :)**


	8. Chapter 8

**This is...difficult. Drake does not like being fixed.**

**Also, be prepared to hate me by the end of this chapter. :)**

**Chapter Eight**

The doctor sat in his chair deep in thought, leaning back in his chair with his eyes shut and brow furrowed. The patient on his mind at the moment was one that he'd been thinking about for a while: Drake Merwin. It was clear the boy was willing to try to remedy his sadistic mentality, but that didn't necessarily mean everything would go well. Sadism, by nature, wasn't easy to treat and just because something worked for one person didn't mean it would work for another. Not only that, but Drake had portrayed possible traits of other psychological problems, and considering sadism's comorbidity, it wasn't an unlikely thought to think that there might be more than one issue that needed to be approached here.

His only real break was that Drake was still in his teens and his body was still undergoing the chemical changes that puberty caused; it was possible it wasn't too late for him to at least learn to control the desires so that he could be reintroduced into society. He just needed to decide if Drake might also be suffering from something else, as well as what that something else would be, and also what the plausible causes for his behavior was. More than likely it had its roots in his childhood, but he'd have to learn more to truly be able to pinpoint how Drake came to associate hurting others with pleasure and control.

Even more than all this, however, was the greatest problem: how to proceed from here. He liked to avoid giving his patients regular medicines, as that meant they'd have to rely on that medicine for the rest of their lives. If something could be fixed just be talking it out and learning some coping methods, then why have someone constantly ingest such chemically altering pills?

The doctor sighed, leaning forward and running a hand through his hair, eyes looking over the notes scattered across his desk. Drake was reluctant to share with others, that was sure, so group therapy was out, at least for now. He could continue their one-on-one sessions, but he wasn't sure if that was enough. Just talking about something didn't guarantee that Drake would be learning anything, not to mention if he never interacted with others he'd never have a chance to reenter society. But he couldn't just suddenly thrust him back into involvement with others; no doubt he'd just regress.

_First thing's first_, he thought, collecting the notes into a manila file. _Try to determine if sadism is the only thing affecting Drake's mind. Then, try to pinpoint the outer stimuli that cause his outbursts and teach him to recognize these situations and how to control himself. After that, look into possibly introducing him into a group therapy session._

**-Break-**

"Drake," the doctor greeted, sitting across from the boy. Drake grunted, looking sort of pitiful with his only arm still held immobile in its sling. "So I'm going to get right to the point. I'm looking into having you sit in on one of the group therapy sessions I have every Thursday."

Drake raised a brow, leaning back in his seat and looking overall very petulant. "Why would I want to go to a group therapy session?"

"Well, sometimes it's good for people to speak things out with others like them and realize that they aren't alone," the doctor told him, watching the boy's reactions. "However, before we do that, I want to try and understand more of your situation."

"My situation," Drake repeated, deadpan.

"Yes, your situation," the doctor repeated, smiling kindly.

Drake scoffed at the sugary method of addressing the issue at hand but decided to not to push it. "So what do you want me to do?" he questioned straightforwardly instead, not looking at the doctor.

"I just want to know more about you. What were your parents like, for example? What about any friends you had in elementary school? Any pets? Any happy memories you have of when you were growing up?" the doctor asked.

"I barely saw my parents. I didn't have friends. I killed the dog my mom gave me, and I don't really have any 'happy' memories," he answered curtly.

"Drake, if you want me to help you get better, you're going to have to talk to me," the doctor instructed him.

Drake sighed, looking towards the doctor from under his long bangs. He just stared at the doctor for a long while, seemingly weighing something in his mind. Finally, he grumbled something under his breath before shifting in his seat and leaning back once more.

"My mom hates me," he spoke neutrally. The doctor was surprised by that.

"Why do you think that?" he asked.

"Because she does. She's never had time for me, always off at her job. She either can't stand me or my dad, I don't know, probably both. I heard them arguing one time and she said I was a mistake." The fact that he'd said all this in a very calm, very controlled voice told the doctor that this was probably a touchy subject.

"My dad, on the other hand, would cave to whatever she wanted and was always trying to please her. He did the same thing to me. I think he's scared we'll hate him, so he does whatever we want. But it didn't work. I do hate him. I hate him and his spineless pathetic groveling, always begging mom to come home more or spend time with me."

The doctor nodded. "So you don't want to have yourself be like your father, is that it? So instead of 'groveling' or 'caving into others' as you see him doing, essentially allowing others to control him, you have decided to be the controller, to impose your own will upon others?"

"I'd _never_ be like my father," Drake spat vehemently, eyes flashing.

The doctor nodded again. "Alright. And it's these same character traits that you observed in Caine Soren, which is why you also do not like him, correct?"

Drake paused, anger dissipating at the unexpected question as he thought over what the doctor had just pointed out. "I hate Caine because he would try to control me…but I guess he was also pathetic because he always caved into whatever Ladris' wanted."

The doctor hummed in thought. "So. You loathe any loss of control and any actions of concession or giving in to another, particularly females."

Drake didn't really like having the doctor sum him up in one convenient little sentence but decided to bite his tongue and instead watch the doctor, waiting to see what other grand epiphany the man would have.

"Drake, I'm going to ask you a serious question," he began, hands folding in front of his mouth as he stared directly into the boy's eyes. "How do you see yourself?"

Drake's head tilted to the side without his wanting it to as he blinked once in confusion. "What?" he asked, not understanding the question.

"How do you see yourself?" the doctor repeated. "Are you happy with yourself? Or are there things about yourself you'd change, if you could?"

Drake's mouth twist into a sort of scowl. "Isn't that the whole idea, Doc? I want to be fixed so I can leave, so obviously I want to change," he spat.

The doctor shook his head slightly. "I'm not asking about what you want to do on the basis of societal views. If you could walk out of the doors, right now, as you are, would you be happy doing so?"

"What kind of question is that?" Drake near accused. "Of course I'd want to leave."

"But knowing that you wouldn't be able to make any lasting connections with anyone, knowing that you'd have to be alone except for your victims, could you honestly say you'd be happy with that lifestyle? You said you don't have any happy memories, so does that mean hurting others actually doesn't make you happy?" the doctor questioned.

Drake was still scowling. "So what?"

"So, answer the question, Drake. How do you see yourself?" he repeated again.

Drake glowered, sitting sullenly in his chair. "I guess…I'm not happy," he relented in a grumble.

"And how would you describe yourself?" the doctor added.

"I don't know," Drake groused.

"Just try, Drake," the doctor entreated.

"How does this help anything?" the boy growled under his breath before shifting in his seat again and looking down and to the side, not meeting the doctor's eyes anymore. "I'm a guy," he began. "I…dammit, is this necessary?" he asked again, sounding annoyed as his eyes flickered back to that doctor.

"Trust me," the doctor told him, motioning for him to continue. Drake looked back to wherever he'd been staring.

"I…I like sports," he settled on. "I…I don't know," he said. "I like playing video games. I like scary movies. I don't like other people, unless I can hurt them. I like controlling people," he was shaking now, though his voice was once again even and steady. The doctor frowned minimally at that observation.

"I hate my parents. I hate Coates Academy. I hate Caine Soren. I hate…I hate a lot of things," he summed up. "I like…I like D…" he was hesitating, his tongue locked behind his teeth. "I like hurting Diana Ladris," he spoke the clearly modified sentence slowly, darkly.

The doctor eyed the boy in front of him for a moment. There was, no doubt, more to many of those statements, along with a multitude of other descriptions that could be applied to the boy. Still, he didn't think Drake was quite getting the point of the exercise.

"Do you define yourself based on other people?" the doctor questioned. Drake paused, looking back up at the doctor in question. "Most of those descriptions were in terms of other people. I'm not asking what other people think of you or what you think of other people, Drake. I want to know what you think about _yourself_."

Drake's teeth clenched. "Well what does that even mean? You said describe myself! I did!"

"No, you described what you like and don't like. I'm not asking your preferences. I'm asking: who are you?" he enunciated.

Drake glared at the doctor for a moment. "Well why don't you show me what you want, Doc?" he seethed.

"Fine. I'm quiet, observant, and educated. I tend to be a perfectionist when paperwork is involved, and I'm very patient-oriented," he rattled easily. "Now you," he instructed.

Drake was still glaring at him, but the teen still huffed to himself. "I'm loud, blunt, and not a very good liar. I'm pretty observant and I hate messy things. I like order…I mean, I'm clean and well-organized…_usually_," he hissed. Clearly, something was bothering him about his current living situation, though that would have to be addressed at a later time.

"I…I'm in control. I'm angry a lot and violent, I guess. I'm mean, I suppose. I'm not a _people-_person," he added in a growl, still surly.

The doctor sighed, patient. "Drake, simply put, do you like who you are?" Drake's mouth opened, but the doctor held up a hand to stop him. "I'm not asking if you're happy, nor am I asking in terms of whether you want to be 'fixed', as you said, and placed back into society. I'm asking if you truly likely yourself."

Drake scowled. "Duh," he said simply.

The doctor raised a brow. "Really?" he asked, sounding skeptical.

Drake watched him sullenly. Dammit. If he was asking again that only meant he had some stupid epiphany he wanted to share about how Drake secretly always wanted to be a Disney princess or something. The boy twitched, fighting the urge to spit in the doctor's face. Who was this guy to think he knew him? Who was he to presume to know whether Drake liked himself or not?

"Yes, doc, _really_," he answered, teeth clenched in anger.

"So you like being alone?" the doctor asked, raising a brow but not giving any other inflection. Drake felt as if he'd just been sucker punched, but refused to let the doctor see that that particular question might have hit home. "So you like frightening away the people you like being around? You like making others afraid of you and hate you, so that they want nothing to do with you? Do you like that, Drake?"

"I don't like defining myself based on other people," Drake answered spitefully, glaring at the doctor. The man raised a brow but didn't rise to the boy's taunts.

"But as a human, you need social interaction. Do you really enjoy having that only interaction come from causing others pain?"

"If I didn't, don't you think I would have switched some things up a while ago?" Drake drawled sarcastically back.

"Sadism isn't easy for anyone to control, especially the person suffering from it. You might have wanted to but simply weren't able."

"_I'm_ in control of myself,_ doc_," Drake growled warningly. "No one else is controlling me."

The doctor paused, silently watching the boy for a moment. He weighed the pros and cons of the statement he was about to make: it would either make the boy blow up in anger or it would make him relapse into deep personal thought. Either way, their session would be over.

"Are you really though, Drake? Are you in control of yourself or is your sickness?"

At first, the doctor was quite sure the boy was going to react with the latter. His eyes widened and his mind seemed to be working to try and understand the implications, to try and gather what exactly had just been said. Counting this session as over, the doctor began to stand. Only, he probably shouldn't have assumed things would just go that easily. Drake suddenly let out a growl, jumping from his chair and at him. The doctor jumped back in surprise, nearly tripping over his chair as the sadist snapped his teeth in anger, eyes burning with hatred, as his entire frame shook.

"I'm in control of myself!" Drake spat, as the guards rushed to restrain him. "_Nothing_ and _no one_ controls me! I do this! I hurt people! _I'm in control!_"

The doctor nodded at the look a guard gave, signaling for the boy to be given a dosage of sedative. After he'd fallen limp in the guards' hold, the doctor sighed, brushing himself off and straightening.

"Take him back to his room," he instructed wearily.

"Yes, sir," one guard answered as they began to carry the boy out of the room.

"Don't know why he tries so hard; it's clear this boy is just a menace," the other guard added under his breath, earning a glare from the doctor as both of the guards sneered down at the unconscious teen. "Too bad they made that law against just putting down the ones who aren't fit for society," the first added hatefully.

"You two," the doctor spoke up, earning both of their attention. "Once you've placed my patient back in his room, I'd like to have a discussion with you both in my office," he stated, frowning. The guards nodded, having the good sense to look cowed, and hurried to finish their task. This time, quietly.

"This is going to be a long process," the doctor muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair before sighing and finally leaving the room himself.

**-Break-**

Diana glared at her ceiling, just lying flat on her back and procrastinating in her homework. This was the third Friday in a row that she hadn't gone to see Drake, and honestly, after having it become such a routine, she felt kind of guilty. But then she'd remember what a total asshole he was and she'd feel better.

Still…he was locked up without a single familiar face. She'd always known he was a sadistic jerk; it wasn't like she hadn't expected him to lash out and try to hurt her. And she hadn't really helped, yelling those accusations. Plus, if she remembered correctly, he'd been trying to hold his tongue before she started going off on him, so maybe he really was trying to change, trying to learn to control himself.

She sighed, rolling over onto her stomach and burying her face in her arms, blocking off all light from her eyes as she laid there.

_It's not like I _miss_ him_, she told herself. _I just feel sorry for him_.

_Don't pity me, Ladris_, Drake's voice growled in her mind.

She grumbled something under her breath, annoyed, before finally sitting up. What was she going to do? Go and see him? Was she really going to cave like that?

She huffed, snatching a pillow and pressing it in front of her face, screaming into it. She didn't feel sorry for that monster. She wasn't going to cave. He was nothing to her. He'd done this to himself.

_I'm just wondering…how much longer you'll visit me…_

Dammit.

She frowned, fingers clutched in the pillow in her lap before she threw it across the room. Why'd he have to sound so…so _lonely_ then? It wasn't like the Drake she knew at all. For whatever reason, after a year of being in that asylum, he was different, more open. And he'd chosen to let her in, let her see that maybe the great Drake Merwin wasn't as indestructible as he tried to make people think. He'd shared things with her, had really opened up. She sighed. And he'd only lashed out at her when she'd judged him, condemned him. She knew what he was like, she shouldn't have been surprised. And she wasn't really all that surprised he'd brought up…brought up what he had. He knew without a doubt that it was one of the few things she just couldn't get over, just like Drake would always be sensitive when his lost arm was brought up. It was really sad how well they understood each other.

"Damn you, Drake Merwin," she hissed under her breath, checking the clock. Why the hell was she caving? Why was she going back to see him? Was she secretly masochistic? What was wrong with her that she'd voluntarily want to be in the presence of Drake Merwin?

_It's four-thirty. Visiting hours end at six, I think. It's only about twenty-five minutes away; I can make it and have plenty of time_. Plenty of time for what, she didn't want to think about.

Just then, her cell phone rang. She paused in getting her purse, looking at the screen of the device and scowling. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, however, she still picked it up, answering it on her way out the door. If she was going to give one narcissistic jerk a second chance, she'd be a hypocrite if she didn't extend the offer to the other one.

"Hello," she sighed, suddenly very tired as she walked down the stairs to the front door.

"Diana," Caine responded, sounding breathless. "Why haven't you been answering my calls? I've been trying to reach you for three weeks."

"I didn't want to talk," she answered simply.

"Did I do something?" he asked. _Yes, you've done a lot of things, like put me in a situation where I had to eat…eat another..._person_ to survive. _

"I just had some things I had to work out," she stated curtly.

"Are you okay, Diana? You sound tired," he spoke softly, caringly. Diana bite her lip to keep from scoffing at the idea—_yeah, like Caine's going to care for anyone other than himself_—but then paused, her steps hesitating at the door.

Why was she so doubtful of Caine's feelings—someone who'd saved her on multiple occasions—and yet accepted Drake's so naturally? Why did she doubt Caine could change and ignore and fight him as he tried to prove his love for her, and yet she rushed to an insane asylum to see a sadist who'd shown no real interest in changing and who had hurt her on multiple occasions?

"I…yeah, I'm fine," she murmured, voice on autopilot as her mind swirled. Why? What was different about Caine and Drake? What made her trust Drake more than she trusted Caine?

"Hey, Caine?" she asked suddenly, cutting off whatever he'd been saying. "Do you…trust me?"

Caine seemed to be momentarily thrown, though he recovered quickly. "Of course," he answered easily.

"And you…love me." She faltered over to word, the taste of it foreign on her lips, but still managed to get it out.

"Yes," he admitted immediately. Perhaps Diana was finally going to accept that he loved her? He smiled in anticipation, eagerly listening on his phone to see what she'd say next.

"Do you remember the first day we met?" she asked, now staring blankly at the door.

Caine chuckled a bit, happily. "Yes, I remember. I saw you from across the hall and worked up enough courage to go talk to you. Then you agreed to eat lunch with me." She could tell he was smiling, could hear it in his voice.

"Do you remember what you told me?" she asked.

"Hm?" he hummed in question, surprised. "Told you? I told you who I was and then invited you to eat with me."

"No, you didn't," Diana corrected. "You told me who you were, but then you told me your friend had asked you to invite me to eat lunch with you two."

Caine was silent now.

"You and Drake have known each other for a long time, Caine," she stated slowly. "Longer than either of you knew me. And you knew he liked me," she accused.

"Diana," Caine began, voice obviously not happy anymore. "Where are you getting this? Drake doesn't like anyone," he refuted.

"He liked me, Caine. Might still, I'm not sure. But you knew that and you used me to make him mad," she put together, mind suddenly connecting all of the dots.

"Diana, what are you talking about? _I'm_ the one who loves you, not Drake. He's just some idiot sadist; you said so yourself," Caine corrected her.

"He's not an idiot, Caine, and it was you who made things escalate into what they did," she stated. "I was just some pawn for you to hold over him. You never loved me. You never even cared for me. You just wanted something to hold over your dear little sadist and I was the only thing he'd ever expressed interest in."

"Diana, you're talking crazy. What has he told you?" he asked, seriously.

"Nothing," she told him honestly. "He hasn't said anything about you. But I know that's the truth."

"And if I was just using you, why would I still feel the way I do? Do you not remember how many times I've saved you? How many times I've picked you over anything else? Diana, _I. Love. You_. It doesn't have anything to do with Drake."

"Proximity grows fondness," she told him. "More so than that, fear of being alone can make one do a lot more than just being in love can."

She paused, struck with the truth of what she'd said. Fear of being alone…Drake was afraid of being alone. That was why he'd opened up to her, even though it was very likely she'd do just as she had and judge him. He wanted so badly to open up and let someone in, to not be alone anymore, that he even risked having her hurt and leave him. And knowing him, he'd never admit it. But she knew now; she knew. She'd hurt him. That was why he'd lashed out so spitefully, why he'd thrown those accusations at her. Just a few weeks prior he'd been understanding of the same event, had helped her get just a bit past it.

"Diana," Caine drew her attention back to him, though she only gave him her ear as she rushed out the door and to her car. She had to see Drake. She had to apologize for what she'd said, for hurting him. She knew now; she couldn't let him lose that little bit of trust he'd held in her, that he'd held in humanity. Otherwise, he might never get better.

"Diana," Caine repeated, sounding annoyed. "Are you listening to me?"

"No, not really," she told him honestly, backing from her drive. "I know I'm right and you know I'm right. Why are you still arguing with me?"

"I wasn't _using_ you," Caine stressed, sounding oddly desperate. "I _love_ you."

"You know I don't believe that, Caine," she pointed out.

"And what if Drake said it? Would you believe _him_?" he spat. She was surprised by that. "You seem so suddenly sure in him. I don't know what's been going on with your little school project, but Drake will always be a sadist. If you think I can't love you, what makes you think he can?"

Why _did_ she trust Drake so much? Why was she going to see him now, to apologize, to win his trust back? Why did any of this matter to her?

_Because I know you_, Drake's voice said in her mind, memories of the last few weeks erupting up through her mind.

_And I know him too,_ she told really, that was enough for her.

"I never said I thought he could," Diana corrected Caine's earlier statement, on autopilot. "That's not what I want from him, anyways. But I do know him a lot better than I know you."

Caine sputtered in shock on the phone, his self-control flying out the window. "_Know him_?! What are you talking about? And how can you say that? You know me!"

"No, Caine, I really d—"

Diana cut off as she jerked the wheel to the side, the car having meandered off the road in her lapse of concentration, breath caught in her throat as she realized she'd gone too far. She tried to get back into her lane with only one hand, but the sound of a honking horn made her look up and freeze. She stared at the coming truck in shock. She twisted the wheel in the opposite direction, trying to get back into her lane. She could hear the honk of the truck, the squeal of tires as brakes were applied, and then her world was spinning. She could hear Caine yelling something, loud enough to be heard through the phone which she'd dropped in favor of holding the wheel with two hands, and then she felt a sudden pressure on her left side, followed by a suddenly force from her front.

Then all she saw was black.

**-Break-**

Drake laid on his bed, head hanging off the bed unhappily as he felt the blood all rush to his brain. Still though, he couldn't be bothered to move just yet.

Three weeks. It'd been three weeks since he'd seen Diana. He wasn't going to admit it to anyone, but he kind of…missed her.

He sighed, shuffling further on his bed so that his head no longer hung off the side. He shut his eyes at the dizzying feeling of his blood flow regulating, instead trying to keep his thoughts from turning melodramatic.

_Like I need her_, he thought with a frown. _I don't need anyone_.

_So you like being alone? _The doctor's voice echoed, his words mocking him.

_Words don't scare me_, he'd once said, a long long time ago.

_Well if they don't, why'd you flip out when she called you a few names? It isn't like she's never done that before. _

Drake scowled. He really wasn't in a mood to fight with himself. It seemed kind of counterproductive to the whole 'become sane' objective.

The sound of sirens drew him from his thoughts, making him open his eyes and look to the wall the sound seemed to be coming from. It wasn't like he had a window he could look out of. Idly, he wondered what was up, but ultimately shrugged, closing his eyes and deciding he might as well go to sleep. What were the chances it had anything to do with him anyways?

**-Break-**

Diana opened her eyes only to shut them tight again immediately, groaning as the white brightness around her blinded her.

"Oh, thank God," she heard her mother say, feeling someone clutching at her hand. Shifting with another groan, she tried to open her eyes again, this time more slowly, and managed to focus in on her mother's worried face. Moments later, her father walked into the room carrying a cup of coffee, and he also seemed relieved to see her awake.

"I'll go get the doctor," he told them, leaving once again.

"Oh, my baby," her mother cooed, eyes worriedly taking in every one of her daughter's injuries.

"What…" Diana trailed off at the sad excuse of a voice she was using to croak. She coughed to try and clear it and her mother offered her a cup of water. She drank greedily, apparently very thirsty, before trying again. "What happened?"

"You were in a car accident," her mother informed her. "Your car went into the other lane and then started flipping when you tried to get back over. The driver of the truck tried to stop but he still hit your car square on the driver's side door. Your car's totaled. Oh honey, the fireman said you were lucky to be alive," she added, eyes watery.

"I was on the phone," Diana admitted, looking down. "I guess I got distracted and loss control of the car."

"Yes, Caine already called to see what had happened. He said he'd get a plane ticket and be here soon," her mother consoled her.

"What?" Diana asked in shock, eyes wide, just before a coughing fit her. "What do you—cough—mean that he'll—cough—be here soon?!"

"He said he'd talk to his parents and get on a plane as soon as possible," her mother consoled, not understanding the problem. "Now hush darling, don't get so worked up. Just rest," she added, smiling both happily and sadly. For the second time in her life, she'd thought she'd lost her daughter forever, and she was just so relieved.

Caine was coming. Diana suddenly felt sick. She wasn't ready for any sort of interaction with him that didn't give her the option of just hanging up on him.

And Drake. Diana's eyes went wide, her heart beat speeding up even more. Her mother cooed at her side, trying to calm her down, but Diana couldn't really pay attention. Caine was no doubt going to want to see Drake while he was here, especially after that little conversation she'd have with him in the car. She had to see Drake _now_. She had to warn him.

"I need to go," Diana said, trying to get out of bed. Her mother's eyes widened in shock as she moved to stop her daughter.

"What are you talking about? You were just in a car accident! You've got a sprained ankle and—" Diana winced, as she'd just tried to move said injured ankle.

"—four bruised ribs," a masculine voice continued from the door, earning Diana's attention. A man with a white lab coat walked in with a kind smile as her dad followed him, leaning against the wall opposite her. "Along with a nasty bump on your head we want to keep an eye on. You're very lucky, Ms. Ladris; it could have been much worse. But still, you need to take it easy for a few weeks."

Of course, Diana knew he was right. But she also knew she could _not_ let Caine meet Drake without the latter being prepared. The resulting blow up would be anything but productive as far as Drake's therapy went.

"When's the soonest I can leave?" she asked.

"Well, after a few more x-rays and maybe a CAT scan or two, I'd say you could go home in around three days."

_Three days?!_

"You don't understand," Diana began, "I _have_ to meet with someone as soon as possible. It can't wait three days."

"Well I'm sorry, but that's the soonest you could be checked out safely," the doctor informed her. "You'll just have to reschedule. I'm sure that person will understand," he smiled kindly. "Or, if you can't do that," he added at the face she made, "you could always send someone else to meet with that person."

That was so not happening. She didn't need one of her friends or—worse—her _parents_ meeting with Drake to give him this information.

Instead, she'd just have to hope that Caine wouldn't get to come for whatever reason. Maybe his parents were still terrified of California. Or maybe they wouldn't let him go alone but they couldn't get off work. Or maybe they'd have to wait a week or more. Or maybe his plane would crash in Kansas or something.

Diana frowned at that one, tuning out the medical lingo her parents were speaking with doctor about. When had she ever wished such violent things on anyone? Seriously, wanting a plane to crash just so she wouldn't have to see Caine?

She shook her head, instead leaning back and looking up at the white ceiling blankly. Looks like it was going to be a bit longer before she could apologize to Drake.

**-Break-**

Sunday found Diana hobbling on a pair of crutches, cursing under her breath at the pain in her chest as she tried to get from one end of the hall to the other while her mother and doctor watched supportively.

_This is so stupid_, she thought to herself, trying to move faster and steadier. She finally got the hang of it and was managing fairly well.

"Well, I would like to keep Diana here overnight to see if the physical activity has any negative effects, but she can leave tomorrow morning," the doctor was telling her mother.

"Oh great," her mom smiled, turning to Diana. "Isn't that great, dear?"

"Yeah yeah," she muttered, lying back on the bed and sighing her misfortune.

"Well I'm going to head home so you can get a good night's sleep," her mom told her, brushing her daughter's hair from her face. "I'll be here bright and early to pick you up," she told her, leaning down to kiss her forehead. "Sleep tight," she smiled before leaving the room, flicking the lights off after Diana's call of "Bye."

Diana sighed, taking in a deep breath and wincing as her ribs reminded her of their bruised status. She glowered up at the ceiling tiredly. One more day. She was going to make it. She could get her mom to swing by the asylum before they even went home. She smiled wearily. It was going to work out.

The next morning, Diana groaned at the feeling of something brushing across her forehead. Her hand came up lazily to swipe at the offending thing, a groan coming from her throat as her hand was caught and restrained, something twisting between her fingers as that ticklish pressure was applied to her hand.

"Diana," a quiet voice murmured, warm air wafting across the back of her hand. Diana stiffened.

He only had to say her name for her to know who it was.


	9. Chapter 9

**Just to let you guys know, I'm going to start trying to get updates out on Sundays. It's just the easiest day for me to work on stuff and really spend time working on the wording of things and sifting through to try and find all the typos. Sometimes I have to reread a chapter nine or ten times before I post it. So please be patient if it doesn't come out as quickly as we'd both like.**

**Also, for some reason, I have...mixed feelings about this chapter. I feel like I might have gotten something wrong. Please let me know how you feel about it and let me know if you catch what's wrong or if I'm just a paranoid perfectionist (which is true, so I don't know if that's just affecting me here too or what...). **

**Chapter Nine**

Drake was once again staring at the ceiling on Sunday, frowning. _This is getting old_, he thought to himself, exhaling roughly as he rolled over, propping his head up with his hand. He immediately rolled over again, flopping onto his back and huffing angrily.

"I'm so _bored!_" he yelled into the silence, just to hear something. He sat up, rolling his shoulders roughly before standing and shaking out his legs, feeling the blood flow into the limbs as he ignored the loud clanging of the shackles around his ankles. He was getting better at that. He bounced in place a bit, like a fighter getting ready for a match, as he tried to figure out what he could actually do. Drake Merwin was _not_ made for a still lifestyle.

Not thinking about the matter further, Drake dropped down into a push-up, working up a sweat as he regressed to his old work-out regiment. He glowered evenly into the ground below him, not really paying attention to anything except the burn in his arm. He was way out of shape, but this way he could at least get sort of back into his rhythm, though where as he used to do one-handed push-ups by choice, they apparently were much harder when one wasn't given a option on the matter.

He dropped at the sound of footsteps coming, rolling onto his back and breathing heavily just as the door was opened and the doctor stepped in. The man raised a brow at the boy's disheveled appearance.

"What were you doing?" he asked.

"Push-ups," Drake responded easily, glaring at the doctor and _daring_ him to forbid it. Instead, the doctor just seemed to shrug.

"Well, you need to get up. You have a visitor."

Drake's eyes went wide and he sat up, legs drawling closer as he stared up at the doctor in disbelief. "A visitor?" he asked hesitantly. _Diana. _It could only be Diana. She'd forgiven him. Drake had to fight to keep himself from smiling as he stood and ran a hand through his hair, following the doctor almost giddily. She was back. She was giving him another chance. He couldn't wait to show her how he was trying to change.

The doctor led him to a room sort of like where he had his therapy sessions, making him frown slightly. He was instructed to sit in one of the chairs as he went to get his visitor. The guards stood by the door, watching him distrustfully. Drake ignored them, idly tapping his fingers on his cheek as he waited. When the door opened, he refrained from letting his excitement at finally getting to see Diana again show, instead waiting for her to take the seat in front of him.

Only, it wasn't Diana who smoothly took the seat in front of him.

Drake's eyes widened and he damn-near blanched. "_Caine?!_" he hissed, both shocked and angry.

"Drake," Caine spoke, frowning. He leaned forward, eyes taking in Drake's form with clear disdain. Drake sneered, teeth and fist automatically clenched.

"What the hell are you doing here?" he questioned angrily.

"That's none of your business," Caine informed him coldly. "I just wanted to get this conversation over before I actually began the whole purpose of my visit," he stated. Then he leaned forward, eyes angry. "I don't know what lies you've been spouting these last few weeks, but you'd better stay _away_ from Diana," he hissed.

"I don't have a clue what you're talking about, _Soren_," Drake responded in tune, eyes flashing coldly. "I haven't seen Ladris in weeks and more than that I haven't told her any _lies_," he added.

Caine snorted derisively, like he'd just heard something both funny and disgusting. "You aren't playing me, Merwin. I don't know what Diana was talking about; you haven't changed a bit. But the point is, stay away from her," he growled his warning.

Drake's teeth clinked shut in his anger, unable to truly think of a response and yet so _very_ irritated. Something seemed to catch up to him then and he paused, anger melting away enough so that he could at least manage to speak, though he was still seething with hatred.

"What do you mean what Diana was talking about?" he asked.

Caine tensed, sneering. "Nothing," he growled, sounding very unhappy.

Drake's mind was whirling, trying to figure out what had happened. Clearly, Caine wasn't happy. Also, something had happened with him and Diana, if he was here warning Drake off. But what had she said? That he'd changed? But after their last meeting he doubted she had anything good to say about him. But then, why was Caine here at all? Hadn't she said he was in New York? He wasn't really sure what was going on, but he felt certain he could get it out of Caine. After all, he'd always been good at pushing the boy's buttons but now he couldn't throw him at a wall anymore. Drake's grinned malevolently.

"Did Diana say something you don't like, Soren?" he mocked, making Caine's glower deepen, the other boy's fists clenched on the edge of the table. "Maybe about me?" he added, really just taking a shot in the dark. Caine's tensing proved that he was headed in the right direction though.

"Shut it, Merwin," Caine seethed, eyes flashing. "She's mine, alright? I don't know what game you're playing but I've already won," he claimed.

"Oh, I don't think you have, Soren," Drake spoke instead, voice low. "And I don't think she ever was yours. Know why?" he drawled, leaning even closer to where he was sure the doctor and the guards, standing tensely at the door, wouldn't be able to hear. "Because if she was happy with you she wouldn't have kissed me."

Caine's eyes widened before he yelled out, standing suddenly and taking a swing at Drake's head. Drake jerked backwards, face a stony frown as he then leapt over the table and tackled Caine, the chains just barely letting him get his feet far enough apart to let him get the distance to clear the table. The two grappled as the guards tried to pull them off from each other. Drake bit into Caine's arm when the boy tried to punch him in the face. He then jammed his knee into the older boy's stomach and swung at his head. Caine's hand found purchase around his neck as he ducked, squeezing until he could barely breathe, but Drake ignored it, instead head-butting Caine's forehead with his own. Both of them groaned, pulling away, but Drake's recovery was faster as he kicked at Caine's side. He struggled when he felt arms restraining him, pulling him away from the other boy. His teeth glinted with blood from when he'd bit Caine, his hair was wildly flung everywhere, and truly, in that moment as Caine looked up, he looked like an animal.

"Whatever pity she gave you, you don't deserve," Caine spat at him, making Drake growl.

"She doesn't pity me," he denied vehemently, spitting the blood-tainted saliva from his mouth.

Caine laughed cruelly, held back by another cautious guard. "Oh really? Then what? Do you think she actually _cared _about you? _No one_ cares about a monster like you, Drake. You're nothing but a tool. I used you as my lackey and Diana was using you for her school project," he spoke easily, mockingly. Drake tried to hide his wince at the words, but Caine saw it. "Awe, you really did think Diana cared about you, didn't you?" he cooed tauntingly, making Drake struggle against the hands holding all the more.

"You don't have a clue what you're talking about," Drake spat defensively, eyes livid.

"You think?" Caine mocked. "You think she hasn't been telling me all about your little meetings? That we weren't having our own laughs at just how _pathetic_ you've become? Ha! You really are and always will be just a stupid sadist, Dr—"

"Enough!" the doctor cut him off, his hand falling heavily on Caine's shoulder, startling him. "I believe it's time you leave, Mr. Soren," he spoke evenly, unhappily.

Caine cleared his throat, jerking out of both the doctor and the guard's hold. "Very well. I'll show myself out," he added, frowning in annoyance at all of them before giving Drake one last look of derision before stepping from the room.

"Drake," the doctor began, only to get no reaction. The boy was limp in the guards' hands now that Caine was gone, staring at the ground and looking…defeated, almost. Dr. Raymond frowned. He hadn't expected this sort of blow up and end result, otherwise he never would have allowed the boy to come and speak with Drake. Exactly how far did he just make Drake regress?

"Drake," the doctor began again, gentler. The teen still didn't respond, making the doctor sigh. "Bring him to his room," he ordered. The guards nodded before escorting the compliant boy out of the room.

"What now?" the doctor asked the empty room, running a hand through his hair agitatedly.

**-Break-**

_…you really did think Diana cared about you, didn't you?_

_No_, Drake denied, rolling over on his bed and staring emptily at the blank wall. _No, I didn't. I'm not stupid._

_You think she hasn't been telling me all about your little meetings? That we weren't having our own laughs at just how _pathetic_ you've become?_

Drake visibly winced as the words echoed, subconsciously turning to hide his face into his pillow, closing his eyes. _Pathetic_, he thought viciously towards himself. He was pathetic. Somehow, he'd actually begun to…to like…and to believe that maybe…maybe it might be possible that…

_Whatever_, Drake thought trying to shrug off the words. Caine had always been a wordy bastard. He'd probably been lying. Probably didn't even have a clue..._yeah, probably…_

_You really are and always will be just a stupid sadist…whatever pity she gave you, you don't deserve._

Drake's frame was shuddering, but he was never going to admit it. _I don't care_, he thought fervently, hand clenching the bed sheets as he pressed his face harder into the pillow. _I don't care_, he repeated, over and over, trying to convince himself.

But she'd admitted it, didn't she? She'd admitted to pitying him before, Drake's mind reminded him. His teeth clenched.

_That doesn't…it's doesn't mean anything. She promise not to…to pity me anymore. Said she empathized…_

_...an insane sadist like _you_…You're the worst of the worst! A pathetic monster without a shred of control! _She'd said those words too though. Those words…so similar to Caine's…

_Dammit_, Drake grumbled under his breath, pressing himself tightly into the cotton. Maybe if he just pressed hard enough and didn't move, maybe if he tried biting the pillow and never let go, maybe he would suffocate. Maybe he just wouldn't have to deal with any of this shit anymore. Maybe…

"Drake," the doctor's voice spoke kindly as the man entered the room, easily spotting the trembling boy on the bed. "Drake," he repeated worriedly, coming to the boy's side. Hesitantly, he rested a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Drake shuddered at the touch of the doctor, flinching in an attempt to pull away from him. He didn't want pity, dammit! Why wouldn't everyone just _stop looking at him like that?! _

"Drake, are you okay?" the doctor questioned. "Was it something Caine said?" he added softly. Drake didn't—_couldn't_—respond. He wasn't going to open his mouth. He wasn't.

…He wasn't sure what would come out if he did.

"Drake, I promise I'm not going to judge you," the doctor continued, noticing the increase in the boy's quivering. "I just want to help you."

The doctor sat there for a moment, noticing how even now the boy was trying to control himself. He was refusing to break, refusing to allow himself to feel this pain. The meeting with Caine had upset him greatly, far greatly than he'd expected. It hadn't been a good idea in the least.

After all he'd learned about the boy though, he had an idea as to what he needed to hear right now.

"Drake…I don't think any less of you," he spoke quietly.

The boy inhaled suddenly, loudly, his eyes still hidden tightly against the pillow as his mouth raggedly breathed in the small hollow of his body and the bed. But then, as the doctor listened a bit closely, he widened his eyes.

Drake wasn't breathing loudly. He was…sobbing.

**-Break-**

Caine grumbled under his breath as he walked down the hall to his hotel room. Visiting hours at the hospital was over already, so he'd have to wait until tomorrow to see Diana. He'd called her mother just this afternoon to see if she had been released yet; apparently she was supposed to go check her out in the morning and had happily offered to pick him up on the way.

He slammed the door shut, scowling as he walked into the bathroom, shedding his shirt. He winced as his fingers brushed the bruise forming on his stomach. Then his eyes glared at the perfect teeth marks marring his left bicep before moving up to his still slightly red forehead. He frowned at his reflection, dragging his fingers through his hair unhappily. The redness on his forehead at least should be gone by tomorrow, so at least he'd look normal. He could hide the teeth marks with a shirt with longer sleeves, and the bruise would be easily hidden as long as nothing touched it. He hissed as he lightly brushed the area again. Damn, even after being in a hospital for so long Drake still packed a punch.

Exhaling, he decided to just get ready for bed. However, all he ended up thinking about throughout the routine activities was Diana. He missed her. It'd been so long since he'd seen her, he couldn't wait. He'd wanted to go see her today but that stupid meeting with Drake had gone so long. And he'd wanted to get that conversation out of the way before going to see her. Once he met up with her, he didn't want to waste any of their time together visiting with that sadist. He was going to have to fly back Wednesday morning, so he didn't have a lot of time to spend with her as it was. His parents hadn't been too keen on him skipping three days of school, but they'd absolutely refused to let him stay another day. Apparently it was taboo to take a week off.

Shutting off the light, he tried to force himself to get to sleep, fighting down the giddiness he felt welling up in his chest. Tomorrow he'd get to see Diana.

He couldn't wait.

**-Break-**

Walking into the hospital the next morning—Diana's mom had told him what room, though she was currently filling out the necessary paperwork to have Diana checked out—Caine couldn't stop grinning. As he walked into the room, he paused at the door as he realized Diana was still asleep. His grin softened as he moved to softly close the door once more. She was so beautiful, even when she was asleep. He walked over, reaching forward to gently brush a lock of stray hair from her face, fingers skimming her forehead. She groaned sleepily, hand coming up to swipe away his hand. He chuckled lowly, catching her hand in his own and entwining their fingers together before brushing his lips across the back of her hand.

"Diana," he called to her quietly, waiting for her to wake up.

It was as if for just a moment, her entire being froze. Caine frowned, worriedly looking over at the monitors behind her. She was okay, right? Was she in pain? When he looked back at her, it was into two sleepy yet focused dark eyes. He smiled.

"Good morning, beautiful," he spoke, letting their connected hands rest on the bed as he leaned against the side of it. "How are you feeling?"

"Caine," she breathed.

**-Break-**

"Well it was very nice of you to come and check on Diana in person," her mother was saying from the front seat, eyes watching both the road and flickering back to look at Caine and Diana with her rear-view mirror. She smiled kindly at Caine.

"I had to make sure she was alright. And besides, I missed you," Caine spoke smoothly, turning to direct his last statement to her. She bit her tongue to keep from scoffing. _Yeah, more like you wanted to have an ego-fight with one certain sadist you feel is threatening your 'territory' or whatever you see me as._

Although…he hadn't mentioned Drake once and Diana wasn't going to look a gift-horse in the mouth. Maybe he'd forgot about it in all the chaos?

His thumb brushed against the side of her hand absently as he looked out the window, clearly at ease in the backseat next to her. Catching her staring, he winked playfully at her, grinning when she looked away.

And maybe he would suddenly transform into a fairy. Like hell did he forget; he had to just be waiting for…something. The right time. Maybe he didn't want to have a fight in front of her mother, who seemed to think he hung the moon. She scowled.

"Does anything hurt?" he asked her quietly, eyes worried.

"I'm fine," she muttered back just as lowly.

"I was thinking maybe we could have a pizza delivered and maybe just hang out and catch up?" he asked, smiling softly. "It's been so long. We haven't spent any time together in ages," he complained, though it wasn't in the whiny tone that annoyed Diana. It was more of a sighing acceptance. After all, it wasn't like they could just meet up every weekend, what with them living on opposite ends of the country. Then he really did sigh. "I had hoped I'd be able to take you out on a real date while I was here but I doubt you'll feel like it with a sprained ankle."

"Is this your attempt at buttering me up before giving me a whole bunch of orders?" Diana asked him abruptly. Caine paused, blinking confusedly as he looked towards her.

"What do you mean? I just want to spend time with you, Diana," he answered her casually.

"Or do you just want me to stop stepping out of line and start playing the good little pawn again?" she grumbled, turning away from him. Her mother's eyes flickered worried to them both, but she didn't comment, having no clue what they were fighting about.

"Diana," Caine sighed, reaching towards her and brushing his hand against her arm gently. "I told you that I may not know what he told you but I know it was a lie. I love you, Diana; can't you just believe I missed you and was worried and wanted to come and see you?" he asked.

"And I assume this trip _isn't_ going to involve a visit to the asylum," she growled accusingly.

"Of course not," he answered automatically, making her pause. She stared at him confusedly.

"Really?" she asked mistrustfully.

"Diana, I came to see _you_," he enunciated, looking right in her eyes. "I don't care about whatever he's up to. I just want to spend as much time as I have with my girlfriend. Is that illegal now?" He was smiling slightly again, fingers teasingly brushing against the side of her own, clearly working up to grabbing her hand once more.

She watched him for a moment, judging just how sincere he was being.

"And when do you leave?" she questioned slowly.

"Wednesday morning," he responded simply. "So we'll have two full days at least." He smiled at the prospect, finally gently taking her hand in his.

She hummed quietly, finally relenting and relaxing a bit into the seat beside him. "I _might_ be up for a non-active date tomorrow night," she told him, smiling as he looked at her hopefully. "Maybe we can go to a movie and dinner or something. I'm not too bad at these crutches," she bragged, watching the grin on his face.

"Of course," he agreed automatically. "Whatever you feel like."

"But a pizza sounds good for tonight…is that okay, mom?" she asked, looking towards the front to see her mom smiling, just happy they'd worked out whatever seemed to have been wrong.

"Of course; I'll order it as soon as we get back," she agreed. However, just as they were about to pull into the Ladris' driveway, Diana's mother's cellphone rang.

"Hello?" she answered it, turning into the drive and parking the car. Caine was quick to go around to Diana's side, opening her door and helping her get down from the slight jump without hurting her foot. Then he handed her her crutches.

"Diana?" her mom called, rolling down the window. She had her phone held by her ear with her other hand as she kept the car running. "They need me to run to the office for a bit. Apparently there's some issues with some paperwork. Will you two be okay? There's some money in the kitchen to order the pizza," she told them.

"Sure," Diana shrugged.

"Well alright then. I'll be back as soon as possible," she told them, rolling the window up and continuing her conversation on the phone, backing the car back from the driveway. Diana and Caine walked inside.

"Alright, explain," she instructed as soon as she'd walked in, collapsing onto the couch and glaring at him. Caine raised a brow, sitting beside her while looking on his phone for a local pizza place's number.

"Explain what?" he asked distractedly, typing quickly.

"Explain why you don't want to see Drake."

Caine didn't even hesitate, instead clicking on the website before setting his phone down and turning towards her. "Haven't we covered this already?" he asked.

"Like I'm going to believe any of that sugar-coated talk you use in front of my mom," she accused.

Caine sighed. "Diana, I've really made this entire visit about you. I'm not planning on seeing Drake again."

"Do you think I'm stupid? We have a fight over how you really feel about me and I tell you that I might like someone else—"

"What?" Caine cut her off, shocked. "Like someone…Was _that_ what you meant on the phone? That you…you like _Drake?!_" he questioned.

"Ah, um," she faltered, just realizing what she'd said. "I mean, that I…that I tell you that another guy…that Drake might like me and that I…I think you might have been using me and…" she just trailed off, looking down at her hands as Caine just stared at her.

"I didn't mean that the way it came out," she finally muttered.

"But you do like him," he spoke finally, evenly.

"I…" she hesitated. "I don't know," she admitted quietly.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He was definitely mad, she could tell. He was speaking with his teeth clenched, probably grinding them.

"I just…don't know, Caine." She shrugged, looking to the side. "What do you want me to say?"

"I want _my girlfriend _to say that she's not having feelings for a sadist," he growled lowly before sighing and tugging his hand through his locks. "Look. I don't…you know I'm not good with all this feeling stuff. But when, in all of time that we've been together, have I ever hurt you? Diana, I've always put your life above everything else. And I know that when you look at me all you can see is the person I was in the FAYZ but…it's been a year. I _have_ changed."

He paused, obviously struggling. Caine had never been good with talking about feelings, certainly. But then, neither had she. She watched him as he seemed to search for the words to say, knowing that if it was like it had been back then he'd probably be chewing on his thumb about now. The thought made her smile lightly, fondly.

"I just don't understand, Diana," he murmured lowly, face down. "I don't understand why you…what he could have done to make you feel anything for him. He's tried to kill you multiple times, and he did kill others. He's obviously not well if he's still locked up so tell me," he looked up, meeting her eyes evenly. "What did he say? What has he done? How has he proven to you that he's changed when I've tried so hard and you still don't believe me?"

Diana's mind whirled as she tried to come up with some way to describe it, though even she wasn't sure. What _had_ Drake done to prove it?

"I don't know what to tell you," she admitted, not looking away. He scowled. "I know that's not the answer you want, but really, I just don't know. Just some combination of things, I guess. Maybe it's because I've been…or, I was pretty involved with his therapy for a few weeks. I've just learned a lot about him that I never knew."

"And that made you trust him more than me?" Caine asked.

"I guess," she admitted. "I don't know, Caine, maybe we just…know _too_ much about each other." She tried to shrug it off, tried not to emphasize it, but it couldn't be helped. Instantly, her mind brought up a whirl of memories, most of which involved hunger and an impossible situation. She was starting to feel sick.

"Know too much?" he asked, confused. "What do you mean? I mean, I've hurt people, yes, and I've killed people too, but so has he. I just don't understand why you're choosing _him_ over me. I could get it, I guess, if it was someone who didn't know anything but…_Drake?_"

Could he see it too? Could he still feel the hunger, smell it, feel it? Taste it? Did the act still haunt him like it did her?

But then, he was right, wasn't he? Drake had done a lot worse, had even admitted to it. And all three of them knew of the evils each other had committed. So what was it about Drake that made everything seem maybe just a little bit better?

She was staring at him, memories reminding her of everything they'd been together. That desperate look in his eyes, like he was reaching for her, trying to keep her, was there once more. She was on that cliff all over again. But he'd caught her that time, had saved her. Could he do it now, without his powers?

"Diana," he breathed, hand reaching out to one of hers. He took it gently, like she might run from him, and enveloped it in both of his. Then he leaned down to brush his lips softly against the back of it. "Diana, I just don't understand. What do you want me to do?" he asked. "I'll do whatever you want. I love you," he admitted lowly, eyes flicking up to look at her.

Diana looked down at their hands. Caine was perfectly happy to do whatever she wanted, _wanted_ her to tell him what to do, just so long as she stayed with him. He'd protect her, would no doubt end up having a lot of money from his parents so he'd be able to take care of her in luxury, and all she had to do was tell him she was done. That she would never go see Drake again.

_I'll go back to being alone._

She flinched like she'd been struck, shutting her eyes. Could she do that to Drake though? He had never let anyone close, had never confided or trusted anyone, and yet…he'd been opening up to her. He'd been gentle, hadn't hurt her once, and had shared more than she'd ever expected. And really, talking to him…it hadn't been so bad. They still argued, of course, but it hadn't been as antagonistic as it once had been. It'd been almost like some playful banter between friends. And she'd been comfortable, talking about anything with him.

Had she ever been that comfortable with Caine? Had it ever felt so…so natural with him?

She could see the activity room, playing cards with him for hours. The way he'd always relaxed when she'd walked in, the way he was obvious happy to see her, even if he wouldn't admit it. She could see his lazy smirk as they played cards, him always winning—he _had_ to have been cheating—and could see him grinning playfully at something.

Then there was when they'd actually started playing basketball. Diana had had the same P.E. as Drake; she knew how vicious and competitive he could get. There was hardly ever a day he didn't send someone to the nurse. But then, when it'd been just them…he hadn't ever hurt her. She hadn't really thought about it then, but now that she did, he'd always seemed careful when blocking or trying to get the ball from her. He never hit her or tripped her or anything, not even on accident. Thinking back now, it was a miracle she'd never noticed it before.

And then…

When he'd kissed her or held her. So careful, yet steady and solid. She could have given out completely and he would have held her up. She could…trust him to not let her fall.

She could trust him.

There wasn't any rhyme or reason, any secret thing he'd done. He hadn't made professions of love or vowed to change for her. He had just...been Drake. Had been blunt and brash, annoying and sarcastic, vindictive and temperamental...but he's also listened and understood some things she couldn't tell anyone else; he'd opened up and trusted her too, had been honest and open. Had been...trustworthy.

Her eyes opened. She could feel herself choke up. Could she say it? Could she really admit it, not only to herself, but to someone else—_Caine_ even, of all people? He'd be furious. There's no way he'd accept it simply. He had always caught her, even when she didn't want to be caught. Even when she'd wanted nothing more than to fall off a cliff, he'd caught her. So what made her think she could get away from him in this? What made her think she could survive his fury, if she were to tell him to his face, right now, that she…that she…

"I don't want you to do anything, Caine," she answered his question from what felt like hours ago. "Because I don't love you and I never will. I just can't trust you. But I can trust him, and there's no trick or anything you can do to change that. And that's why I like Drake."


	10. Chapter 10

**So yeah, I said I was going to start releasing these on Sundays but I already finished it and, well, it is _technically _Sunday here, though most would still consider it Saturday night. Whatever, it's after midnight and it's going up. **

**Just to note: the large italicized section is on purpose. It's actually a dream scene I've had written for quite a while, so I hope you like it! I love writing dreams. :)**

**Also, I think I figured out what I was so insecure about last time. I wasn't confident of my portrayal of Caine at all. But all of you seemed to like it so maybe I was just begin paranoid. Either way, I like him better in this go round. **

**After writing this chapter, I'm beginning to wonder if I should switch this to the "angst" genre...**

**Talk to you guys at the end of this! I've got another AN for you...**

**Chapter Ten**

Caine was frozen, just staring at Diana. His mind replayed the words she'd just said, trying to make sense them, trying to _deny_ that _his Diana_ had just said them.

_I don't want you to do anything, Caine…Because I don't love you and I never will. I just can't trust you. But I can trust him, and there's no trick or anything you can do to change that. And that's why I like Drake._

...She could…trust _Drake_, but she couldn't trust _him_. And she…she _liked_ Drake yet she didn't…she didn't love him. Didn't even like him. What…What was going on here?

Caine blinked, both incredulity and anger shaking through his system. But there was something else too, something beneath it all. _Pain_. Diana would never love him, never had. All his plans, his dreams of them getting older, finally getting married, having a house, and just living peacefully together…none of that was going to happen. She…didn't want him.

He bit back that pain though, focusing instead on what she _did_ want. A _sadist_. A sadist who had _tried to kill her_. Multiple times!

"I…" he began, not even sure what to say. How does one react to that? What was he supposed to do in this situation? Just walk out the door with a smile? Maybe wave and wish her luck with her sadist? Or throw a tantrum like a child? Break everything he could reach? Break_ her_? But no, he couldn't do that. He couldn't…he couldn't hurt Diana. Never. No matter what she did. She was…she would _always be_ his Diana. He couldn't…

"Diana," he tried instead, pleading. _Please don't do this to me. Don't…please. Diana_, he thought desperately, trying to get her to change her mind.

"I'm sorry, Caine, but I'm choosing to go with Drake," she spoke evenly, slowly. She was watching him carefully, like he might attack her suddenly. Did she…really think so little of him? Even if he was mad, even if it felt like she was jabbing her hand into his chest and ripping his heart out…he'd never hurt her. He'd spent so long protecting her that even the thought almost made him laugh. Like he'd ever hurt Diana!

But then…Drake was another matter, wasn't he?

He frowned, releasing her hand and standing stiffly, mind already whirling with plans.

"I think I'm going to go now," he spoke evenly, carefully, letting nothing of his inner turmoil out as he moved to grab his phone from the table. "Goodbye…Diana," he spoke, looking towards her one last time, seeing her surprised eyes and nearly breaking down right there. She really had…She'd really expected him to hurt her. He wanted to both cry and yell at her. What had he ever done to make her think he would ever hurt her? Protect her? Put her life above everything else? Save her life? What?! He wasn't like that monster, dammit! So why was she picking Drake and not him?! Why was this even an issue?

He turned and walked out the door, phone at his ear and mechanically calling a taxi to meet him a few blocks down. Then he just tried to process everything that had just happened. He went through everything reflexively, getting into the cab, telling him where to go, paying him afterwards, moving to his room. In fact, nothing seemed to hit him until his hotel room's door shut behind him with a soft click.

Pain. Pain and anger. It was all he could feel. He yelled out suddenly, kicking at the chair seated under the little table and sending it across the room. He huffed, eyes wildly taking in everything in the room. He wished he still had his power. He could demolish this place, make everyone hear and know his pain, his _anger_.

"Drake," he growled lowly, limbs shaking in anger. _Drake_. He was going to make him pay. He was going to make him regret ever speaking to his Diana…

_…if she was happy with you she wouldn't have kissed me…_

Caine roared again, this time kicking the bedside table and knocking over the lamp that was on it. It didn't shatter like he wanted, sadly, so he stepped on it instead, hearing the crack of the light bulb and the crunching on the metal bending out of shape.

_She kissed him. She kissed _him_. She _kissed_ him. _He repeated, getting angrier and angrier. Why the _hell_ would she kiss him? Had she ever in their entire time together kissed him without him first initiating it? Maybe if she thought she could get something from him. He scoffed, trying to ignore the way his breath caught in his throat. She preached about him using her but she'd been using him from the very beginning, all because of his power. And he'd known that, but still, he'd thought…

His eyes jerked to his hand at the feeling of something wet landing on it. He looked at the single drop of water oddly before wiping his fingers across his cheek, finding more wetness there. He suddenly found his throat closing up, his breath getting harder to control as his body trembled slightly.

_Why_, he thought, falling to his knees and burying his face into the side of the bed, hiding his pain from the world. _Why him?_ _Why are you leaving me alone now? Diana…please. Don't leave me for him_.

**-break-**

Diana was still just sitting on the couch when her mother came home. She took one look at her daughter's despondent face, the tears trailing down her cheeks, noted the lack of Caine and immediately rushed to her side, hugging her daughter tightly.

"Oh honey," she cooed, feeling her daughter finally react as she returned the embrace.

"Mom," Diana spoke, sadly.

"What happened?" she murmured, pulling away to look into her daughter's eyes.

"I…I broke up with him," she spoke quietly, looking down at her hands. Her mother's eyes widened. She had thought it was the other way around, with how Diana had looked. "And I…" Diana continued, hesitantly. "I don't know if I made the right choice," she finally finished lowly.

"Tell me everything that happened," her mother spoke gently.

"I…" Could she really tell her mother about everything? About Caine, Drake, the FAYZ…Panda? She hadn't really discussed any of it with anyone other than her therapist and even that had been limited to mostly the things that were going to cause her to lose her mind right then. But…she needed to tell someone. Anyone. And her mom of one of the people she trusted the most.

So she began. She started before the FAYZ, talking about when they'd sent her to the FAYZ. About meeting Drake and then Caine and how all that had gone. About the power and dating Caine so he'd protect her. She talked about when the FAYZ first started, all the horrible things she, Caine, and Drake had done. She was crying as she spoke, but she couldn't stop. She had to get it all out. Her mother listening silently, eyes widening in shock in times or covering her mouth in horror occasionally, but she never let go of her daughter's hand in disgust, never rejected her, never judged her. Diana finally paused when she got to Panda, voice choking.

"And then, there was this boy still following Caine. His name was Panda. He…I guess he couldn't stand it anymore, the constant hunger and thirst. And he…he drove himself off the cliff. Killed himself," she explained, sobbing. "And the others. They…they got Caine and…and he…drug him back up the cliff with his power and they…they took him and…oh God, mom, and they…poor Panda," she cried, shaking. "And then they came and…and gave me…and I…I was so hungry, mom, so hungry, and it smelled…_Panda _smelled so…I…I...I'm…"

Diana just started sobbing, her mother wrapping her up in her arms as tears fell from her own eyes. She'd done so much just to survive, had broken herself this much. And she'd been holding all of it in, refusing to let anyone else know, let anyone else help.

"It's alright, honey," she cooed into her daughter's ear, rocking her back and forth in her arms. "It's okay. Other people have done the same thing. You did what you had to to survive. I don't think any less of you. It's okay," she repeated, just holding her. Diana cried harder, clinging onto her mother and never wanting to let go.

Finally, after a while, Diana sniffed, pulling away an wiping at her eyes. Then she began to continue, moving onto the island and then the bugs and Caine's power trip. The wall falling and therapy and everything. Then she paused, biting her lip.

"You've been through so much," her mother spoke softly, sadly.

"That's not what any of this was about though," Diana added quietly. "Not really. I broke up with Caine because of…of what's happened in the past few weeks." Her mother stayed quiet, waiting for her to continue. "Remember how my psychology class goes to the asylum every Friday?" Diana asked.

"Yes. Didn't something happen where you didn't have to go anymore?" her mother asked.

Diana nodded. "The patient I was studying for my assignment…he yelled at me and Mr. Leon gave me an alternate assignment," she explained simply.

"What does this have to do with you and Caine?" she asked quietly.

"The patient I was working with…was Drake," she admitted hesitantly. Her mother's eyes widened, mind whirling as she remembered everything Diana had just told her about all that boy—that _monster_—had done to her. She shook with rage, moving to stand. She had no idea he was still around, that he could still hurt her daughter. She'd go and give him a piece of her mind. She'd—

"Mom, wait!" Diana cried, latching on her arm. "Please…wait," she tried, looking up with tears in her eyes. "Let me…tell you everything first." She sat back down reluctantly, waiting. She didn't understand why her daughter didn't want her to go meet with this Drake. Did she think he would be able to hurt her?

"Drake…Drake's different now," she spoke quietly. "He's…changing. He's not like he was during the FAYZ or even really what he was like before." Trying to describe Drake, she decided, was difficult. "He's…he's the reason I broke up with Caine," she admitted finally.

Her mother just stared at her for a moment, speechless. Then she leaned back on the couch, sighing. "Maybe you'd better explain what's happened since the beginning of this assignment," she suggested tiredly. She was going to be exhausted at work tomorrow but she wasn't even going to think about asking Diana to wait until tomorrow to tell her the rest.

So Diana did. She began with them playing cards, then them playing basketball. The way Drake had revealed more about himself, the easy conversations they'd had, how he'd never hurt her. She mentioned the doctor's revelations, which had shocked her mother definitely, and then she mentioned the fight and why she'd stopped going. Her mother had looked furious, but Diana had grabbed her hand, keeping her there as she continued on into the past couple weeks. How she missed spending time with him and all the thoughts she'd had, the connections she'd made. Finally, she began talking about Caine and how he played into all of this. Then the phone call that had ultimately led to her crashing as she was trying to go see Drake and apologize was brought up.

"And just now, I just…I realized something, you know? That I've been with Caine for years but I've never felt anything real for him. But I miss Drake. I like hanging out with this version of him—the _real_ him—and I really think he can get better. I trust that he won't hurt me anymore. He makes everything easier to handle and pushes me to move past things and I just…I like being around him. I like being with him. I…I like him," she admitted for the second time. "And that's why I broke up with Caine. Because he loves me, and I just don't think I can do that. I thought about giving up on Drake and just staying with Caine, but the idea of just leaving Drake all alone again…He doesn't have anyone else, mom. He's always been alone and now he's finally trusting someone—_me_—and I can't just throw that back in his face. He'd never get better and he'd just be in that asylum forever and I just…I can't. I can't do that to him." She looked up to her mom, revealing the tears threatening to spill over onto her cheeks.

"He helped me get passed something that I didn't think I'd ever be able to get passed. I would have never been able to tell you about Panda if it wasn't for him. He helped me and I want to help him because I know that he's worth helping. He's not just some worthless, pathetic monster like I and everyone else had thought. He's a person. And he's lonely."

**-break-**

_"Drake."_

_He turned at the voice, easily spotting the smiling girl who'd called him. She reached forward to brush his arm gently, looking up at him with her beautiful dark eyes and her equally dark hair down._

_"Diana," he breathed, feeling his own lips return a smirk. He lifted his right hand, mind not finding its presence odd in the least as he brushed his fingers across her cheek before moving back to tangle his fingers in her hair. His left hand slipped around her waist, pulling her pliant body closer as he pressed her against him, mouth automatically moving to claim hers._

_"Drake," another voice called, making him pull away from Diana to look over his shoulder. Only, Diana was no longer in his arms. Instead, she was in front of him, standing behind a smirking Caine._

_"Caine," Drake hissed angrily, visage morphing into one of old, a snarl crossing his features._

_Caine laughed at him then, the sound superior and mocking. "Does the little baby dream of kissing _my_ Diana?" he taunted. Suddenly, his laugh cut off as the boy stepped closer, eyes boring into Drake's. "Does he think he can beat his superiors now?" Caine asked threateningly._

_"I'm not afraid of you," Drake spat, glaring at him._

_"Then why didn't you ever try to take her back, hm? If you wanted her so much, why'd you just give up?" Caine taunted. "Admit it: you _know_ you don't deserve her. She's too good for a pathetic, sadistic, unfeeling monster."_

_"I'm going to get better," Drake claimed angrily._

_"It doesn't matter what you do," Caine hissed suddenly, stepping even closer until he was practically spitting the words into Drake's ear. "It doesn't matter because I will _always_ be the better choice for her. She's _mine_, not yours. I protected her, you tried to kill her. _I_ love her. What do you do? _Think_ you _might_ like her?" Caine scoffed, pulling away and sneering at him in disgust. "She'll always be mine."_

_Then, Diana walked forwards giving them both glares._

_"I can't watch this pissing match anymore," she claimed, flicking her long hair over her shoulder. Drake tried to focus on her and ignore the fact that he wanted nothing more than to punch Caine in the face right now._

_"Diana," Caine called, lifting one hand into Drake's view. The boy growled and if looks could kill, Caine's hand would be burning just as Drake's hand had not too long ago._

_"Caine," Diana responded, smirking coyly at him, reaching for his hand. Caine was smirking in triumph._

_"Diana," Drake called desperately, trying to get his feet to move, only they wouldn't. He reached forward as Diana moved further away from him, towards Caine. "Diana, I…I…I'm…_sorry_," he choked out. She didn't even look. "P…_Please_," he begged, watching hopelessly as she took Caine's hand. The dark-haired boy threw a smirk over Diana's shoulder before turning and leading her further away from Drake. Diana never even looked back._

_Drake had fallen to his knees, staring at the ground beneath him. Why? Why him? Was it because of the power? Was that why? Or was it because he didn't do things for her? Did she want someone who would cater to her? Worship her? But Drake couldn't do that; he just couldn't!_

_"Diana," he whispered. "Why him? Why not me?"_

_Drake's eyes focused on the sudden damp spot right below his face. Rain? Was it raining? Was he even outside? He just shut his eyes, not really caring._

_"Please," he murmured again. "I'm sorry," he spoke once more, this time the words coming easier. When was the last time he'd said those words to anyone? He couldn't remember if he ever had._

_"I'm sorry," he breathed again, before his forehead hit the ground as he collapsed, finally feeling the sobs wracking through his body as the tears kept coming._

_"I don't want to be alone. I'm sorry. Please, anyone…don't leave me alone," he cried lowly, feeling the crushing emptiness of the space around him._

_Suddenly, he jerked up as he heard the shuffling of people, eyes wide as he saw that he was surrounded by people. Not just any people, but people he knew. Sam, Astrid, Dekka, Brianna, Jack. His mother, his father, the kids from his old school. Some other kids from Coates. And right in front of him…Caine and Diana._

_All of them were looking at him disgustedly._

_"Why should we pity you?" Diana sneered hatefully._

_"No, not pity," Drake pleaded, only looking at her, ignoring the others. "I don't want pity."_

_"You asked for this," Astrid spoke up, drawing his attention._

_"You didn't want our help," Brianna added._

_Drake was bombarded suddenly as all of them started talking, throwing their accusations, none of them really lies. He tried to cover his ears but the voices still came._

_"You killed me," a voice spoke. He looked up to see a little girl standing right in front of him, glasses on her nose and braces on her teeth. "You killed my brother and you killed me."_

_Drake honestly wasn't sure who this was, but she probably wasn't lying._

_"You're a demon," she accused, reaching forward to brush through his hair in a mockery of a caress. When her hand came back, it was covered in mud. "A vile demon who deserves to be miserable and alone."_

_"No," Drake tried to speak. "I don't want to be alone."_

_The girl grinned nastily as her skin seemed to melt away, her body growing inches as she became more masculine in features. Drake's eyes widened, watching as the girl in front of him turned into himself, only this one had his whip hand._

_"Pathetic," the new Drake mocked, grinning toothily. The whip at his side unfurled, waving tauntingly in the air before it sliced down too quick for him to follow, leaving a small stinging cut on his cheek as a mini-sonic boom echoed in the space. The rest of the voices grew silent, watching with cold eyes._

_The whip hand Drake leaned down until he was right in Drake's face. "Run, you pathetic piece of shit," he hissed, his whip cracking in the air once more._

_Drake was quick on his feet, running away from the monster. Running away from _himself_. He could hear the whip cracking in the air, slicing into his back. He cried out in the pain, trying to run faster, trying to get away from the pain._

_"That's right," Diana's voice spoke from his side. "Run, little lab rat."_

_Drake opened his eyes to see himself running in a large wheel, Diana watching him with a cold glare from his right. He cried out when he felt a sudden pain in his arm, looking down in horror to see his right arm's flesh burning right before his eyes. He watched as his whip slithered from the ashes, cracking in the air loudly without him ordering it to. Then, he watched with dread as the whip suddenly curled in on itself, withering before it fell off just above his elbow, leaving him limbless._

_"I just don't know what to do with him."_

_Drake stopped in his running, looking to his left. His mother stood before him, looking down at him. He looked at himself to see that he wasn't a teenager anymore. In fact, he was probably close to three-years-old._

_"He just gets so violent sometimes," she was speaking about him as if he wasn't right there, wasn't being studied by her harsh eyes. He watched as his father stepped from behind her, also looking down at him._

_"He's just a little high-strung," his father defended, setting a hand on his mother's shoulder._

_"Perhaps something's wrong with him," she answered instead, nose scrunching in disgust like he had some kind of contagious disease._

_"Mommy," he spoke, reaching up towards her, wanting her to pick him up. She ignored him, turning and walking a bit away. He pouted. "Up," he spoke again, trying to get his message known. His father's sympathetic eyes—no, his father's _pitying_ eyes—leaned down as the man slipped his hands under Drake's, lifting the toddler into his arms._

_"Mommy's busy right now, son," he explained. "But daddy can play with you."_

_"Mommy," he sulked._

_"Daddy's here," his father said instead, drawing him close and giving his unhappy son a hug. "Mommy's busy."_

_Mommy's busy…_

Mom's always busy_, Drake thought angrily._

_"You deal with him," his mother's voice said. A five-year-old Drake peeked out from behind his door, slipping into the hall and to the top of the stairs to hear his parents talk. He was supposed to be asleep but he'd been playing video games under the covers until he'd heard his parents arguing._

_"But Sharon," his father responded pleadingly. "He just wants to spend some time with you. You're his mother; you can't just avoid him for the rest of your life."_

_"Well forgive me for not wanting something to do with that mistake. He's completely out of control. He's only in kindergarten and they've already talked about expelling him. It'd be one thing if he was a good kid, then maybe I wouldn't regret it, but now?" She sighed. "Sometimes I wish I had just gotten that ab—"_

_"Drake!" his father cut her off, smiling nervously as he spotted his son standing at the bottom the stairs. He was watching his mother eerily, seemingly both hurt and angry._

_"A…mistake?" he spoke quietly. His mother's eyes widened before she sighed._

_"I didn't mean that, Drake. I was just talking grown-up things with your father."_

_"I was a mistake?" he asked again, ignoring her answer. He was waiting her like a hawk, his eyes boring coldly into her. She fought back a shiver._

_"Isn't it past your bedtime, Drake?" his father asked, cutting in._

_Drake was quiet for a moment, before he turned and walked up the stairs slowly, shutting his door quietly._

_"Here, boy." Drake blinked, looking over his shoulder, realizing he was in his back yard. His mother stood on the porch, holding a squirming puppy in her arms. "Take this," she instructed him, dumping the wriggling mass into his seven-year-old arms._

_"What's this?" Drake asked, looking up at his mother confusedly._

_"It's a puppy," she told him like he was stupid. "Now go play and stop bothering me," she told him, waving him away as she went back into the house._

_Drake looked down at the puppy. The small thing yapped once, tongue lolling from its mouth lazily. Drake looked from it, then to the door his mother had disappeared._

_"You know," he began, speaking to the puppy. "I think she got you to keep me occupied so she doesn't have to deal with me," he thought aloud. Then he glared down at the puppy in his arms, stepping into the house and walking towards the kitchen malevolently_

_"Son," Drake's father was talking to him. He was now around nine. "Why do you keep frightening away the baby sitters?"_

_"I don't need a baby sitter," Drake claimed._

_His father sighed, brushing his hands through his graying hair. "What if I stayed home this Friday instead of a sitter? Would that make you happy?" he asked._

_Drake's eyes widened before he grinned. "Mom too?" he asked eagerly._

_His father sighed again, sounding incredibly tired. "I don't know. Your mother might have something planned," he avoided answering. Drake scowled. In other words, 'no'. His mother was always busy. Too busy to be with her 'sick' and 'wrong' son. Her _mistake_._

_"And," his father continued, as he noticed his son's angry look. "If you behave, I might take you to the shooting range Saturday."_

_Drake perked up at that, looking up at his dad. "Really?" he said excitedly._

_His father smiled, finally able to find something his son seemed excited about. "Sure."_

_"Yes!" Drake cheered, rushing up the stairs to his room._

_And now Drake was ten, looking at the gun in his hands and standing in his parents' room. He walked to the door with a cold, empty expression on his face._

_"Derek," he called as he walked down the stairs. A larger boy came from the living room, a smirk on his face._

_"So where is it?" the boy asked._

_Drake didn't respond. He just raised his right hand and pulled the trigger._

Drake gasped, waking up abruptly with the sound of a gunshot echoing in his head. He panted slightly, wiping at the sweat that had collected on his brow and shuffling back in the bed until he could lean against the wall behind him.

_A dream…just a dream…_ he told himself, trying to get control of his breathing.

_Still having nightmares, Drake? What happened? Did someone give you a hug? Was it a teddy bear? Cute little kittens?_

He flinched as the Diana in his mind mocked him.

"I don't dream," Drake spoke into the empty room, voice roughly cracking. He'd said that once before…hadn't he?

_Ever?_

"Never," Drake answered, sounding desperate. He didn't want to dream anymore. He never wanted to dream. Subconsciously, he curled into himself, pulling his legs close to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. He hid his face in the hollow of his knees, biting his cheek angrily.

_Mistake…_

_Pathetic…_

_Monster…_

_Unfeeling…_

_Sadist…_

He shivered, trying to block out that word, the accusations. "Drake," he croaked his name weakly. "I'm Drake." _Not a mistake…not pathetic…not a monster or unfeeling or a sadist. I'm just Drake._

The boy flinched at the feeling of something touching his shoulder. His head jerked up, eyes widening at the sight of Diana standing before him. She frowned, gently brushing his face with one hand. He felt her smearing something wet there—_tears_, his mind supplied—before he reacted. Without really questioning why she was here or how she'd gotten in without the door opening, he reached for her, pulling her into his lap and hiding his face.

_Not alone_, he tried to tell himself, shivering. He felt her brushing his hair with her fingers gently, just as she had one time before. He bit his lip. Would she disappear again, like that time? Could it…could this really be…

"Diana?" he spoke, lifting his head back to try and meet her eyes. Try to see that he wasn't insane. That she was really here. Only, she was already gone, having disappeared from his hold.

His eyes widened, the crushing silence of the room echoing in his ears. He trembled, hand shaking in the air as he tried to process her disappearance. _No…I am alone. So alone my mind has to make up people_, he thought spitefully, mournfully. He clenched his eyes shut, jerking his head back so hard it slammed into the wall. He focused on the pain. Pain was real. Pain meant he was still here. Still Drake.

_Diana_, he thought desolately. He'd screwed up, badly. He missed her so much. Why did he have to be so stupid? Of course she was going to be upset at what he'd done to Jamal. He was a monster. So why did he have to bring up Panda? She already hated herself enough for that without him bringing it up. She hated him. Had to. And now he was…he wouldn't ever get to see her again. She wasn't going to give him another chance. His last hope had abandoned him.

What was so special about her though? He tried to shake himself out of this stupor, this depression. So what if Ladris wasn't going to come see him anymore. Like he needed her. Like he needed anybody! He was Drake Merwin! He was Whip Hand! He was a sadist! A controller! A ruler!

He was…lonely

He shivered again. Was it cold in here? He wasn't sure. He couldn't seem to stop shivering though.

He hated that word. _Lonely_. Like he was lonely. He didn't need anybody! He didn't! He trembled. Dammit, he _did not_ need anyone!

"Fuck," he spat brokenly, running his hand down his face, wiping harshly at the tear tracks, feeling only more take their place. He tugged at his hair, tangling his fingers in the too-long longs and yanking, trying to focus on that pain. It was so much easier to focus on that, the physical pain. _Don't think about Diana. Don't think about anything. Just quit thinking._

His nails bit into his skin, trails of blood running down his face to join the tracks of tears. He dug them in further, scratching down his forehead, trying to stop his minding from reminding him of everything. He stopped above his left eye, which was blinded by blood, as he just sat there, trembling and holding his head.

_I'm sorry_, he thought over and over again, mouth forming the words though no sound was coming. _  
_

_I'm sorry._

**I think I'm going to call this the "Crying Chapter." Cause seriously, even I was crying. Probably going to try to lighten up the next chapter a bit. But yeah, lot's of people learning things and having epiphanies. I'm going to try to add more action in the next one, since this chapter is mostly just thinking and talking. Hopefully still enjoyable though. Maybe I took the hate off of Caine a bit? Though I wonder what he's planning on doing to retaliate towards Drake? Hm...**


	11. Chapter 11

**Guys. I'm _so sorry!_ You have no idea how sorry I am! Are you willing to listen to my excuses though? You see, I was working on this...three weeks ago, was it? Gosh, I'm so sorry! Anyways, I was working on it a lot because I knew third exams were coming up and major projects and I knew I just wasn't going to get a lot of writing time but I wanted to still have updates for you. So I was just putting the finishing touches on chapter...fourteen, I think, and all I was going to have to do was review these chapters a few more times and then I'd be able to post them for you at regular intervals. **

**Predictably, it was on Sunday morning, literally hours before I was going to post the next chapter, that the bad things happen.**

**So I'm working on chapter fourteen, all pleased with myself having actually gotten as far ahead as I wanted to be, when I decided to started rereading/editing/proofing it. I got about halfway through this chapter however and realized something: I was so off! Inconsistencies galore, OOC, wild side-plots, plot-holes...I just have no idea what I was doing! Then, to my horror, I realized that the direction I was headed was a very dark, very sad, very _bad bad bad_ ending. So I had to change that. So I changed the inconsistencies, fixed the plots holes, and thought this chapter at least was still salvageable Then I realized that it was still going to lead me to the _same freaking ending._ I'm not going to say what this ending is, but just know that you should thank me for not writing it, for I'm fairly sure everyone would hate me, including myself. I just don't know if I could have ended it that way...I might tell you all after I finish this fic up, IDK, but it was horrible. And don't ask, I'm not telling before this fic is over at least. **

**Anyways, so I caught myself. I had time to fix things. Only, I had to scrape over twenty pages of work on Microsoft Word. Talk about horrible. And the end result didn't give me enough to give you guys a decent chapter, so I thought I'd wait until I could write a bit more. But remember what I said? I had wanted to finish all this before third exams for a reason. I'm telling you, four exams, two major projects, and two weeks later, here we are. Of course, I have another exam this Friday that I need to study for and another paper due Tuesday, not to mention that I'm sick, but I refuse to let myself sleep until I give you guys an update! I am determined! And I am still _SO SORRY!_**

**Maybe this chapter makes up for it? Maybe you guys haven't left me? Please don't abandon me! College life is just so stressful! I can still write good! See? **

**Chapter Eleven**

When the doctor opened the door to Drake's room early Tuesday morning, he started, surprised at the bloodied body sitting calmly on the bed.

"Drake?" he called, studying the boy carefully. Drake hummed in acknowledgment, shifting on the bed and stretching out his legs until he was sitting. He turned two grey orbs onto the doctor, the left in the midst of a dried stream of blood.

The doctor studied him for second, wondering the best route to take here. Deciding that a lecture wouldn't have much effect on the teen, he instead sighed and gestured for Drake to follow him. The boy stood as instructed, following him to the infirmary.

"So why'd you do this?" the doctor asked, wiping away the dried blood carefully. Drake stared straight ahead, face blank.

"I just…wanted everything to stop," Drake murmured lowly.

"Everything to stop?" the older man asked, moving to grab the bandages and cover the deep scratches.

"Yeah. I just got tired of thinking. The pain gave me something else to concentrate on," Drake shrugged tiredly.

The doctor stood as he finished, eyes studying Drake. Should he? He thought for a moment, finally making a decision as he led the boy from the room, turning left.

"Hey, doc. My room's the other way," Drake drawled casually, watching as the doctor paused and turned to look back at him.

"Yes, but I've decided you're going to come sit in on a group therapy session I have on Tuesdays."

"I thought that was going to be on Thursdays," Drake pointed out, though he had already begun to follow the doctor.

"We might try both of them," he informed Drake. _Because honestly,_ he thought eyes studying the boy's haggard appearance and exhausted eyes, _it's not healthy for any human to be so separated from interaction with others so completely. He's withdrawing into himself and internalizing everything._

He held the door open and let Drake into the room first, noticing the way he paused to look at the people sitting in a circle. They all looked up, some smiling in greeting or even waving. Drake scowled.

"Sorry I'm late," Dr. Raymond spoke. "Everyone, this is Drake. I want him to sit in today," he explained, his hand landing on Drake's shoulder and pushing him towards one of the seats.

"Hi, Drake," the other people chorused. Drake grunted, taking a seat and glaring at them all.

He wasn't really sure what to make of this. All these people looked to be around his age, which didn't really tell him much about what was wrong with them. He did see that he was the only one wearing chains around his feet, which a few of them were looking at with something akin to wonder and nervousness. He shuffled in his seat, hoping he wasn't going to have to talk. His eyes met some girl's from across the circle and she smiled shyly, tilting her head forward until she could practically hide behind her hair. She kept peeking at him nervously, her cheeks reddening. He scowled, looking away and waiting for the doctor to say something.

"So how was everyone's week?" the doctor began, smiling from his seat in the front of the circle. Drake really hated that smile.

"I felt the depression come back, but then I didn't hurt myself," one girl spoke shyly, looking down at her hands.

"That's great, Chloe," the doctor stated, smiling.

Drake stared, dumbfounded, mostly because that was all he could manage. _What…_

And that was how they continued. Talking about moments where they'd all felt like hurting themselves but they didn't. Or sometimes they did, and they felt bad about it. And everyone was so stupidly happy and supportive, smiling and hugging and rubbing each other's backs if one of them cried. Drake's hand fisted. What the hell was going on in that doctor's head to bring him to _this_?

"What about you, Drake?" the doctor asked him, earning the boy's glare. "Would you like to share anything?"

Drake kept his mouth shut, sitting tensely in his seat, internally cursing the older man.

"It's okay, Drake," a girl spoke next to him, smiling kindly. "We're not going to judge you. Promise."

"Yeah, you can talk to us about anything. Tell us how you really feel," another guy offered.

"How I really feel?" Drake asked lowly, eyes flashing malevolently. "I really feel that you all are a bunch of pathetic little sissies whining about stupid shit you need to get the hell over," he spat vindictively. Most of them winced but still looked at him with that same stupid look in their eyes. "What?" he growled, glaring at the girl across the circle who was still offering him shy little smiles. Right now she had this twitchy small smile thing on her face, like she was about to laugh at him or something. It made him want to punch her in the face and make her look terrified and bloody instead.

"We're not going to judge you for what you think. This is just your first session and we all know how hard it is to accept that you need help and that everything's not alright. So just be as honest as you can." Then she smiled at him again.

Drake stood suddenly, having had enough, and stalked towards her with violence in his eyes. He was stopped by Dr. Raymond, who restrained him as he called for the guards, but he was clearly struggling to hold the boy back.

"You stupid whore, what makes you think you know anything about me? I'm not anything like you! Accept that I need help? Ha!" He barked out a sharp mocking laugh. "I don't need help from anybody, especially not anyone as pathetic as you."

"Drake," the doctor warned, trying to keep his hold on the straining boy while also getting the syringe out of his pocket. He was having a bit of trouble, looking towards the door and hoping the guards would come soon.

"Then what happened to your head?" another boy asked, stepping in front of the girl almost protectively and glaring at Drake. Drake growled, eyes flashing coldly. "Let me guess, an accident, right?"

"Hell no," Drake grunted angrily, "You think I can't own up to what I do? I did it."

"So that you'd have something other than your thoughts to focus on?" the boy accused lowly, leaning closer.

"Lucas," the doctor warned the other boy as well.

"You think we don't know?" Lucas continued, ignoring the doctor. "That no one's ever felt what you've felt? What is it, hm? Are you a disappointment? An eyesore? A mistake?" he questioned. The doctor couldn't help but notice as Drake seemed to be straining less and less against him, instead listening to what Lucas was saying intently. The man eyed the boy carefully, still maintaining his hold on him. "Maybe you think you're all alone, that no one understands or cares. Or maybe everyone hates you, is that is?"

"So what?" Drake spat harshly. "You're all just complaining about feeling depressed and whatever and then it's all smiles and shit."

"That's part of getting over stuff, telling other people about it. If you can't admit what you've done or what you've felt to other people, then you haven't admitted it to yourself, and that means you haven't overcome it yet. It means you're still holding it in and letting it destroy you. Control you."

Drake snapped, stepping closer in the doctor's lax hold and making the man struggle to keep him from shortening the few feet left that would put him at a distance where he could attack Lucas.

"You don't have a single idea what you're talking about," Drake hissed lowly. "You think I regret anything I've done? That I haven't owned up to it? Don't make me laugh. I'm a sadist and I'm always going to be one," he growled, noticing how some of the others seemed shocked by this, staring at him fearfully now. "I don't give a damn about anything or anyone. But let's get one thing straight: the only thing controlling me is _me_."

"I don't believe any of that for a second," Lucas spat, glaring into Drake's cold orbs. "Sadists are the loneliest people in the world," he claimed.

"And how the hell would you know?" Drake growled angrily, just as the door opened and three guards rushed in.

"Because I'm one too," Lucas spat, stepping forward with his fist half-raised only to be grabbed by one of the guards. The other two went to relieve the doctor from his hold on Drake, pulling the boy back as he struggled.

"You want to fight?" Drake growled hatefully, noting the boy's movement to hit him. He'd like to see him try. "Take one more step, idiot. I'll grind you into the dirt and have you begging for mercy in less than a minute."

"Big words for someone with one arm," Lucas shouted back. Drake saw red, kicking out at the guards holding him and fighting to get out of their hold. Lucas was doing the same, both of them cursing each other at full volume while the other patients rushed to get away from the ruckus, looking frightened.

"Drake, Lucas," the doctor stated loudly. "Both of you need to calm down," he instructed. Lucas glowered but stopped trying to get out of the guard's hold, huffing and still glaring spitefully at Drake. Drake only responded in kind because like _hell_ was he letting this guy think he could control himself better than Drake could.

"Alright now, I think that's a good place to end today's session," the doctor sighed. "Everyone can head to your usual classes," he dismissed. As everyone began moving, Drake just stayed still, watching Lucas like a hawk as the boy was released by the guard. He sent Drake one last glare, his green eyes widening with surprise before turning a whole new level of angry when Drake spat in his direction, just barely missing his feet. He took one step towards Drake threateningly, making the two guards holding Drake back have to work all over again to keep their hold on the blonde as he tried to get close enough to do some real damage. The remaining guard however placed his hand heavily on Lucas' shoulder in warning, making the brunette scoff and turn towards the door, flipping Drake off once before exited the room.

"Well, that went…sort of as expected," the doctor admitted, earning Drake's attention.

"What the hell," Drake growled, glaring up at him.

"Something wrong?" the doctor asked.

"Why didn't you tell me you were taking me to a group session on hurting yourself? I'm not like these pansies," he growled angrily.

"Did you or did you not dig your fingernails into your skin and down your face?" the doctor asked. "That's considered self-harm, Drake."

"That was…" Drake stopped, glowering. "Different," he finished sullenly.

"How so?" the doctor asked, raising a brow.

"I wasn't…I wasn't trying to kill myself," he grumbled, looking towards the ground. "I was just trying to…calm down," he muttered. "And there wasn't anyone else around to hurt," he added lowly.

"It's funny actually that Lucas was the one to confront you," the doctor commented, going in a different direction. Drake huffed at being ignored, glaring at the door.

"Is he really…" he began, but stopped. Like he was going to show any interest in the boy.

"A sadist?" the doctor finished. "He was. Technically, he still is though he's getting better. He's never done anything like you have considering he's never been in a rule-free zone like the FAYZ, but he's done a few notable acts that have led to him being here for the past few months," the doctor explained.

"He's getting better after only a few months?" Drake asked lowly, not looking at the doctor. The older man paused, turning to look at Drake. The guards had moved to the door now that the other patients were out, instead waiting to see if they were going to be needed again, leaving the boy free to let his posture slump.

"It takes a different amount of time for different people, Drake," the doctor replied soothingly, moving forward. "And you're getting better as well, you know." Drake scoffed, but didn't otherwise react. A moment later, the doctor sighed.

"Well, I still think you should go to the Thursday session, which is with a different group, but I think we'll keep you coming to this one as well."

"Wha…_why?_" Drake asked, looking incredibly annoyed.

"Because believe it or not, but it helps," the doctor revealed. "Talking things out, getting angry, finding people that have or are going through the same things as you. All of these help a person move past things and change."

"Not in my experience," Drake grumbled under his breath. The doctor paused in his dismissal. He'd been about to ask the guards to escort Drake back to his room, but now…

"What do you mean?" he questioned. "Not in your experience?"

Drake rolled his eyes, shifting his weight to his opposite foot and staring at the door with bored eyes. He shrugged. "Talking about stuff has never helped me before so I don't see why it's going to help me now."

"It's only been a year, Drake, and you've only just now started revealing things—" the doctor began, only to be cut off by Drake's bark of laughter.

"You honestly think I've lived this long and the first therapist I've ever been sent to is you?" he asked incredulously. "Well isn't somebody feeling entitled?" he sneered mockingly.

"Well, I'd assume you probably had regular therapy meetings while at Coates," the doctor began.

"Try years before that, doc," Drake cut in. "My mom's been sending me to this one or that one since I was five."

The doctor's eyes widened. If this child had been getting help since that age, how then had he progressed to such a point? Surely all of this wasn't from the FAYZ.

Drake laughed then, a harsh bark of laughter that was anything but pleasant. "You face. God, you look so surprised."

"You've been having regular therapy sessions since you were five?" the doctor asked, ignoring his comment.

"Yeah," Drake answered easily. "But I don't think I need to tell you the results." He smirked wickedly.

"And you've been…open and honest?" the doctor questioned, in disbelief.

"About as much as I've been with you," he stated simply, shrugging. Then he grinned malevolently. "It was always fun when I got really into it though. That was usually when mom would end up having to take me to a different therapist. I made it into a game to see how long it took me to scare the therapist and make them refuse to take me as a patient anymore. My record was three sessions," he bragged.

Three sessions. The boy was able to scare trained psychological professionals enough in three sessions that they would abandon him when he needed their help the most. And this was when he was still a child, before the FAYZ.

What exactly was wrong with this boy?

Drake's face went cold, watching the reactions on the doctor's face that so clearly gave away his thoughts. The teen's eyes hooded as he studied the older man calculatedly. "Are you scared of me now, doc?" he drawled casually, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"No, Drake, I'm not scared of you," Dr. Raymond reassured him, walking towards the boy and moving to rest a hand on his shoulder. He jerked back though, startled, when Drake snapped at him like an animal, teeth clicking together loudly. Drake's eyes hadn't left his the whole time. Then the boy grinned, the action involving too much teeth and not enough happiness and overall the doctor couldn't help but be struck by how…shark-like the boy looked.

"Sure, doc," he drawled tauntingly, turning and walking towards the door, throwing a look over his shoulder in wait of the doctor to release him. He raised a brow, still smirking, waiting.

The doctor moved to follow him, trying to control his heart rate as he led the teen back to his room. He would never admit it, but sometimes he did find himself frightened by Drake. Sometimes the look the boy could get in his eyes, the utter apathetic look of a predator...or, even more unnerving, the humored look of a child enjoying a game. And he didn't even want to think about the downright evil look the boy had sported for Diana after their fight. It'd been a while since he'd encountered that expression though, had almost even begun to believe that Drake was beyond that. But after today, after seeing the boy's shark-like grin...he wasn't so sure Drake was as far along as he'd thought.

**-break-**

_Ridiculous_, Dr. Raymond thought, stressing over his notes as he combed his hair back once more. _It's not possible. I was caught off guard because of how he's been acting lately; I should have expected it. I'm overreacting._

And yet, he was still pouring over all of his notes on Drake Merwin, listening to every session and rereading every deduction. Because he was a man who trusted his instincts and after what had happened after the group therapy session…something was telling him that something was wrong. He had noted the exemplary steps Drake was making, breaking down and admitting what was wrong, but he'd assumed that with the presence of what appeared to be borderline depression, that Drake was through the worst of it. That now it only mattered to teach him how to control his anger and his fantasies, how to cope with real life, and then the boy could be released. But with that cold look, that singular expression of such…malevolence. He wasn't so sure anymore.

But that was his only inkling of something being wrong. All of his notes, all of the sessions…nothing was amiss. Drake's behavior had been consistent with someone who was moving towards coping with sadism. He'd reacted with both anger and sadness, revealed loneliness and a desire to connect with someone on a human level. He'd revealed childhood issues and had even caused himself harm, something that wasn't necessarily mandated as a sadist's behavior when in therapy but it wasn't unheard of either. All of it added up.

_I'm being ridiculous_, he told himself again, sighing. _Just because of one expression I'm going to doubt everything that he's been working towards. He's not completely healed yet so it's perfectly fine if he has relapses. It was just a minor fallback, nothing else. Nothing to worry about_, he tried to calm himself, shutting the manila folder and leaning back in his chair. He massaged his temples tiredly.

_I'm getting entirely too involved in this case. I shouldn't be so personally invested in the healing of one patient_, he thought to himself. He reached for his cup of coffee mechanically, scowling at the lukewarm temperature of the mouthful he'd just gulped and fighting to keep from spitting it out. _Lukewarm coffee…this day just gets better_, he thought melodramatically.

**-break-**

Later that day found Drake once again lying around his room, bored. He groaned, face scrunching in annoyance as he rolled over on the ground. He wasn't seeing the reason for getting up, the weary weight of his constant insomnia making him tired despite that fact that he never did much. He had his head on his arm, his back to the door as he huffed, very close to falling back to sleep with a scowl on his face.

He started as something touched his shoulder, making him roll away and flash his eyes open, ready for a fight. Instead, he found himself staring wide-eyed at a crouching Diana, who just raised her brow.

"Again?" he said aloud, wondering why his mind found it necessary to constantly plague him with visions of Diana. Wasn't it bad enough he'd never get to see her for real again, but it had to taunt him with what he couldn't have too?

She frowned, looking like she was about to say something though Drake didn't really give her a chance. He really didn't feel like hearing whatever a hallucination was going to say anyways. He reached forward and grabbed her, pulling her against him. Without thinking, he covered her mouth with his, wondering if he would even be able to kiss something that wasn't even there.

He roughly claimed her mouth, roving across every crevice as he pressed her solidly against him with his hand. His ears caught the sound of a surprised groan as her hands—trapped between them—clutched at his shirt desperately and she tried to pull him even closer. He flipped them, shoving her against the wall and blocking off all escape as his hand trailed up to tangle in her hair, holding her tightly against him. She groaned a bit again but didn't push him away.

He could feel every curve of her body, every breath she took. He wasn't sure what was going to happen when he opened his eyes only for her to be gone. He didn't know if he could deal with that again. So instead, he kept his eyes clenched shut, trying to keep touching her just to make sure she stayed there.

_Don't you dare have her disappear again_, he thought, effectively threatening his own mind. He gasped as their lips separated, needing air but not wanting to be separated from her for fear of her just vanishing. He trailed his lips down her jaw and throat, leaving open-mouth kisses as he kept her pressed against the wall. She had no complaints, her arms moving until they were around him completely and holding him close.

"Diana," he murmured her name reverently, kissing her throat before moving back up to her mouth. He moved slowly now, less rushed as he lazily connected their mouths once more. As long as he kept his eyes shut, as long as he kept touching her, she would stay. Surely, his mind could keep her here for just a little while longer.

Her hands were tracing up and down his spine, making a shiver go down his body. He dragged his fingers down her back, feeling her arch up into him even more. His hand paused at the edge of her shirt before slipping the tips of his fingers under it, the contact with her skin making her jump, separating their lips wetly.

"Your hand's cold," she complained breathlessly as he moved back to her jaw.

"Then warm it up," he murmured, smirking slightly as he boldly pressed his whole hand flat against her back. She hissed at the contact.

"Jerk," she muttered, accepting another lazy kiss as his fingers began to draw circles on her lower back. "It's a wonder why I came back to see you."

It took a minute for those words to correctly process in Drake's mind. He had automatically moved to kiss her again after the sentence before tensing and pulling away, a frown on his face as his eyes opened.

And she was still there.

Drake just stared at her, wide eyed. Could it be that…had Diana really…

"What?" she asked in response to him staring at her for so long, shifting against him.

"Diana?" he asked lowly, a question.

"What?" she repeated, looking up at him annoyed, the mood having passed. "Quit staring at me," she ordered subconsciously, looking to the side.

"You're really here," he murmured, looking into her eyes.

"Who did you think I was? A nurse?" she asked sarcastically. "They must take pretty good care of you if that's how you say 'hello'."

"You're here," he repeated, ignoring her as he pressed her against him once more, hiding his face against her shoulder. "It's really you."

Diana held her tongue to her mockery, instead sighing and returning the embrace. "Yeah," she murmured against his neck. "I'm here."

"I…I shouldn't have reacted the way I did about what you told me," she admitted quietly after a long while, fingers taking a life of their own as they ran up and down Drake's tense back. "I already knew what had happened and, honestly, I don't have the right to judge anything you've done, considering everything I've done," she finished lowly.

Drake didn't speak, though he didn't move away from her either. After a few moments, he sighed, seemingly pressing his face even further against her throat. "I…shouldn't have…said what I said," he murmured so quietly that she could barely hear him even with him so close. "I'm...s...sorry," he whispered hesitantly, for her ears alone. Diana's eyes widened, body tensing with shock. Had Drake just...apologized?

What exactly had happened while she was gone?

Drake wasn't moving, seemingly perfectly happy to hold her between his body and the wall, hiding his face from her. She could choose to leave him alone like that, wait for him to make the next move, or she could try to get them both past their argument.

"We both messed up, huh?" she questioned quietly, deciding to let him off easy and not comment on his apology as long as he was willing to do the same for her.

"Yeah," he agreed, hugging her close. "I didn't think you would ever come back," he added.

"Neither did I," she revealed.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked, pulling away to look in her eyes now that they were past the apologies.

"Some…things have happened," she hedged, looking away.

Drake frowned, studying her for a moment. "Does this have something to do with Caine?"

Diana stiffened, looking up at him in shock. "How did you…"

"He came to visit me yesterday," he answered neutrally, eyes flashing coldly. Diana's eyes widened.

"That lying bastard!" she hissed angrily. "He sat there and lied to my face! And he wonders why I don't trust him," she growled to herself.

"What happened?" he asked curiously, seriously.

"Caine and I got in a fight. We broke up," she stated simply.

"Over…what?" he asked, getting the sense he was involved in this.

Diana hesitated before looking up at him. "You," she answered quietly.

"What about me?" he questioned lowly.

Diana wasn't sure what to say, refusing to meet his eyes. There was no way she was telling him everything about how she liked him now and how she had missed him and how she felt so much more comfortable around him than Caine. But then, she hadn't exactly come up with a cover story either.

"Diana," Drake drew her attention to back him, forcing her to look into his fiery grey eyes. He was smirking just slightly, the look so casual and lacking in any malevolence whatsoever that Diana had to check herself to keep from swooning. Where had Drake learned that move? "What about me?" he repeated, grey orbs memorizing her. She couldn't look away, licking her lips as she stared at him.

"Caine…Caine didn't like how…close I've been getting to you. And I got tired of dealing with his need-to-control-me attitude. So I…broke up with him," she evaded.

Drake hummed, his smirk becoming more pronounced as he leaned forward to brush his lips across hers. "That so?" he drawled casually.

"That doesn't mean that now I want to deal with you," she grumbled, though she wasn't pulling away.

"I'm not so sure it doesn't," he responded arrogantly, before slowly capturing her lips in a thoroughly claiming kiss.

"I hate you," she murmured against his lips as they broke apart.

His eyes sparked with mischief, flames dancing in the vibrant grey orbs. "I hate you too," he responded in a purr, grinning his trademark grin featuring too many teeth and far too much malevolence. It was a sight she hadn't seen in a long time, and a sight that had never caused her heart to race with anything but fear, if directed at her, or mild disgust, if directed at others.

Only she wasn't feeling fear or disgust at the moment, though her heart still racing.

**-break-**

Dr. Raymond frowned, mind wondering if allowing Diana to be alone with Drake again was a good idea. Her mother—who was currently sitting in the waiting room—had seemed to think so, adamantly working to get him to agree as soon as she and her daughter had walked in just a while ago.

"And you're aware of what happened last time they were allowed to be alone?" the doctor asked her again, cautiously.

"Yes," Diana's mother sighed, sounding annoyed. "For the thousandth time, yes. My daughter has explained everything and I believe it's best they be allowed to work this out alone. Nothing would get solved if you or I or anyone else was around."

The doctor hummed, not entirely in agreement but he was willing to give them a little bit of time. All things considered, he'd sort of come to a wall with where to go with Drake so maybe Diana would be able to get through to him and come up with some way to help him move further.

**-break-**

"What happened here?" Diana asked, sitting on Drake's bed with her back against the wall while Drake had found it fitting to stretch out on the furniture, resting his head on her lap contentedly. Her fingers gently brushed the white bandage on his forehead, the object of her question.

Drake grunted, shifting as he turned away, disconnecting her fingers from the spot. "Nothing important," he muttered. His eyes focused then on something new propped up by the door. He frowned, immediately turning back to look up into Diana's eyes accusingly. "Why do you need crutches?" he asked, or more, demanded to know.

"I was in a car accident Friday, sprained my ankle and bruised a few ribs. Nothing big," she waved it off.

Drake was still frowning though, sitting up on the bed suddenly and grabbing at her shirt, tugging it up.

"Drake!" she yelped, startled, as she fought with him to keep her shirt down. "What the hell are you doing?" she demanded, trying to get the cloth out of his hold.

"Calm down," he rolled his eyes. She glared at him silently. He sighed, holding his hand out to the side. "I just want to see. I'm not going to do anything," he defended.

"You better be talking about seeing the bruises," she growled lowly.

He huffed, giving her a look like _she_ was the idiot in this. She narrowed her eyes at him, annoyed, but lifted her shirt all the same, holding it just under her bra. It was easy to spot the discoloration on her left side, the area about the size of his palm. He reached forward, surprisingly gentle as his fingers traced the outline.

"You should have told me sooner," he muttered, mind flashing back to before when he'd shoved her against the wall.

"I'm fine," she responded, nearly speechless in the light of this almost caring Drake. She'd never known Drake to ever be worried for someone else, let alone her. He'd hurt her physically countless times in the past and yet, now, he was displeased at having caused her a truly minor discomfort.

"And your ankle?" he asked, eyes turning to look down at her feet.

"Yeah," she answered, watching his hand as it came to rest on her right calf, his fingers skimming down and across her slightly swollen ankle, avoiding the brace. He was gentle but the pressure still made her wince. He pulled away, eyes watching her.

"How'd you wreck?" he questioned.

"I was...distracted," she edited, looking away. _I was coming to see you and got in a fight with Caine_.

"God, it's like pulling teeth to get answers out of you," Drake complained, huffing as he laid back down, reclaiming his spot on her lap. His eyes were shut, his mouth frowning as his brow furrowed with his annoyance.

Diana's mouth twitched before she couldn't hold it, laughing at him. Drake grumbled something under his breath before opening one eye, glaring at her. "What?" he demanded.

"You were worried," she stated.

"Am not. You're here, aren't you? That means you're fine," he defended. She laughed again, leaning down to brush her lips against his pouting scowl in recompense.

"You were still worried though," she murmured, dark eyes looking straight into his. She smirked as a tinge of color came to his face as he looked away.

"Whatever," he grumbled quietly, not really denying it.

Diana let it drop, instead letting one of her hands begin combing through his hair, watching as Drake seemed to relax under her ministrations, exhaling as his eyes slid shut. She smiled slightly, consciously noting just how…natural this felt. This what she'd always wanted: to be able to be with someone as herself and just be comfortable, whether they were or weren't talking. She couldn't think of a single time where she'd felt at such ease around Caine, always having to make sure she wasn't giving up any weakness and letting him get a hold over her. This just proved that she'd made the right decision.

"You need a haircut. Badly," she commented, noting just how long the dirty blonde locks were.

"Thanks for the newsflash," he drawled, not even bothering to open his eyes or really move at all.

"They won't cut your hair for you?" she asked, surprised.

"They won't let us near sharp things. For some reason, bad things happen when they do," he mocked, smirking a bit. She rolled her eyes, though she found herself smirking slightly herself.

"You know, they only gave me an hour to meet with you," she spoke, leaning back and looking up at the boring ceiling. Her eyes scanned the small room. White furniture, white sheets, white walls, white ceiling…clearly Drake hadn't done the decorating. Seriously, why white? Wasn't it a pain to clean it? Wouldn't a color—any color—by better than white?

"Then they'll probably be back soon," Drake responded, still not moving. She looked down at him, eyes taking in his even thinner frame and the dark shadows under his eyes. He must not be sleeping well. Her fingers softly traced his face, brushing over his closed eyes gently before trailing down his nose and finally skimming his lips. They parted under her touch, his tongue peeking out to moisten both his lips and her fingers. She scowled, wiping them off on his shirt while he snickered teasingly.

"When's the last time you got any sleep?" she asked quietly, ignoring his immaturity.

Drake sighed, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling blankly. Then his gaze flickered to hers and he shrugged. "I sleep," he answered simply.

"Not restfully," she refuted, fingers brushing under his eyes. "And probably not much."

"I don't like to sleep," he spoke, sitting up and brushing off her touch.

"But you need it," she argued, moving to sit beside him on the edge of the bed.

"I'm fine," he stated, ending the conversation with his steely look. Or, he tried to.

"Nightmares?" she murmured.

"…something like that," he admitted, looking away. "Just don't worry about it. It's not like you can do anything anyways," he reasoned, trying to get her to agree to dismiss the topic.

"Fine," she conceded, _for now. _She skimmed his jaw with her fingers, turning his face back to hers and leaning up to kiss him slowly.

They jumped apart at the sound of someone speaking at the door. Drake flashed to the opposite wall, leaning back against it nonchalantly just as the door began to open. He sent Diana one last cheeky grin before his face turned bored and he shifted to stare blandly at the door. Diana rolled her eyes at his antics, fighting back a smile as she turned to the door as well.

"Diana?" her mother spoke, entering the room with Dr. Raymond behind her.

"Time's up, huh?" she asked, standing. She paused though when she noticed a third person behind the doctor. The other man was dressed in a plain black suit, his face serious.

"Drake Merwin?" he spoke deeply, moving into the room and eyeing Drake stonily. Drake returned the look, eyes cold as he raised a single brow in challenge.

"Yeah?" he acknowledge, posture still trying to give off an aura of nonchalance though Diana had noticed his frame tensing, waiting.

"I'm Special Agent Michaels," he began, not offering a hand to shake. "And I'm here to discuss some allegations that have been made against you."

"Allegations? He's already been sentenced for everything he did in the FAYZ," Diana refuted, coming to his defense. Drake hadn't moved, instead watching this 'Special Agent' coolly, warily.

"Mr. Merwin was only brought to a preliminary hearing. He was deemed unfit to stand, however, by pleading insanity. He was never sentenced," the man corrected Diana. Her eyes widened in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me? I was there. I saw it. It was a trial, not a hearing, and you can't retry him for the same crimes. That's against the Constitution," she pointed out angrily, not knowing why she was getting all worked up. They didn't even know what he was talking about anyways. But something about this guy felt off. Something was about to happen.

"Perhaps you should return to your home, little girl, and let men do their jobs," he growled, sounding annoyed. Diana's eyes flashed with anger and she probably would have smacked him good—Special Agent be damned—if Drake hadn't grabbed her shoulder just then, somehow reading her mind.

"Just go home. I'll tell you what's up later," he murmured into her ear, eyes not moving from the other man.

Diana huffed, annoyed, but stalked around the guy just the same, her mother following her after a moment, though looking just as unimpressed about the guy's chauvinistic comment as her daughter.

Only Drake didn't have to tell her what was up. She figured out as soon as she and her mother drove up to her house.

"Are you Mrs. Merwin?" another man dressed in a suit asked, this one sounding more pleasant as he offered a smile and his hand for her mother to shake when she nodded. Then he turned to Diana. "And you must be Diana then. Good, I'm glad I caught you before I left."

"Is something wrong?" her mother questioned him suspiciously.

"Oh no, you're not in any trouble or anything," the man chuckled, waving off their concern, though Diana noted that he didn't answer her mother's question, not really. "I'm just here to ask Diana a few questions about a former classmate is all," he responded, gesturing to the up until now, silent teenager.

"What former classmate?" Diana questioned slowly, mind already telling her what this was about.

"Well, surely you remember one Drake Merwin?" the man questioned, face still smiling kindly though his eyes seemed to be holding hers hostage, daring her to lie.

"Yes," Diana answered.

"Good," he responded. "Then this shouldn't take too long. See, some new information has come into light and we believe that we can finally bring him to the justice he evaded in the chaos after the tragedy known as the FAYZ," he explained. "Perhaps it would be better to continue this conversation inside?" he asked.

"What do you mean bring him to justice? The courts ordered him to be put in a psychiatric facility until he was deemed safe to be in society," Diana refuted angrily, ignoring the man's attempt to relocate.

"Yes, well, that was actually a preliminary hearing to see if he was mentally stable enough to undergo a trial, which he wasn't. But now, with his main psychiatrist's belief that he is approaching normality, we at the Federal Bureau of Investigation have decided to just do a check up to make sure he hasn't been just faking insanity in the attempts to avoid his rightful punishment. Don't worry; we haven't forgotten the pain he inflicted on the majority of you kids and we assure you that justice will prevail." He smiled again, while all Diana could do was stare at him in horror.

_No. No no no. Not now! This could not be happening! It just…no! _

"Perhaps now would be a good time to go sit inside," her mother murmured with a frown, gently leading Diana into the house, the agent following them cheerily.

**So...did it make up for my lengthy absence?**


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

The next day, Diana was sitting in the waiting room alone as she stared at the mirror across from her blankly, barely blinking. It all just seemed unreal. Had it really been just yesterday when she'd made up with Drake? And now, knowing he was…he was…

The door opened, earning Diana's momentary attention. She glared with a sudden heat at the boy that walked in, the door shutting behind him quietly as he avoided her gaze.

"_What did you do_?" she accused him angrily.

"I didn't do anything!" he denied, finally looking up at her desperately.

"And why do I not believe you?" she spat harshly.

"Diana, I haven't done anything. I swear," Caine continued, sitting a few seats down from her and trying to get her to understand.

"Caine, you're royally pissed at him. I'm having trouble believing that this isn't just some way for you to retaliate against him."

"But the _FBI_, Diana? Really? Even I don't have those kind of connections," he tried again.

"Just don't talk to me," she hissed, turning back to glower at the her reflection, body tense as she tried to keep from digging her nails into her arms as she held her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

Caine looked down at his feet, for once not trying to talk his way out of this. He still hadn't come up with a reason as to why she cared so much for Drake. So what if he was—

The door opened again, earning both of their attention. Another agent walked in, offering them both cups of water. Diana refused hers, instead moving to scowl back at the mirror silently, while Caine accepted his with a polite nod.

"Sorry for the wait. We had to contact and bring in a few more witnesses for the initial interrogation, but they should be here shortly and then we can begin. Honestly, it was kind of lucky you were still in town," he spoke to Caine, politely. "I can't imagine hold long we would have had to wait if you had to be flown in from New York."

Caine chuckled along with him awkwardly. "Is this really that important?" Caine asked, watching the surprise cross the man's face as he looked down at Caine.

"What? Of course it is! Don't you remember all the bad things you children were telling us this guy did while you were all stuck in the dome? This is what he deserves," he spoke as if trying to get Caine to agree. The boy could only nod slightly, nearly wincing at the increase in hatred he could feel emanating from his side. Oh, he was doing great at winning Diana back.

"Well the others should be here soon," the agent spoke, smiling before leaving the room again.

"I can't believe you'd go this far," Diana hissed at him angrily.

"Not too long ago you would have agreed with me," he muttered, not looking at her.

"That was before all this!" Diana exclaimed, standing and whirling around to shout at him from a better angle he assumed. He slid down in his seat a bit, not really wanting to hear whatever 'all this' was that had taken place between the two. He was instantly on his feet and by her side, however, when she winced at the sudden pressure standing put on her ankle and she wobbled unsteadily on her feet.

"You shouldn't be standing," he murmured, helping her get back to her seat. She scowled, jerking away from him.

"I don't need your help," she growled.

Caine sighed, still leaning over her seat and putting his hands on either armrest, boxing her in. "Diana, listen to me," he spoke, capturing her livid gaze. He cut her off as she started to speak. "Not yell at me. Listen," he repeated. "People do that with their ears, not their mouths."

She scowled, but settled into the seat, still glaring at him. He took this as a sign to continue.

"I'm pissed, alright? I am. And most of that's at Drake, some of it at myself, and a lot of it doesn't really have a source. But I'm not stupid. I get that somehow—_impossibly_—you've begun to feel something for Drake. And because of that, I wouldn't ever try something like _this_. I might be willing to fight him for you but I'm not going to involve the legal system. Especially not the _FBI_. I mean, come on. Really?" he asked, shooting her a look.

"Well this timing is suspicious," she grumbled, not entirely trusting him.

"What is it about me?" he asked suddenly, straightening up and throwing his hands in the air as he began pacing. "What is it that makes me untrustworthy? Has this always been a problem and I just didn't realize it? Why can you trust him and not me?" He questioned, turning to her and waiting for an answer.

"I told you, there is no trick or reason. It's just the way it is," she told him.

"That's not possible. There has to be a reason you don't trust me," he demanded. "Have you _ever_ trusted me?"

"I trusted you to protect me in the FAYZ," she spoke softly.

Caine laughed suddenly, devoid of any humor. "So that's it. My power. That was the source of everything. God, I'm such an idiot," he grumbled to himself, running a hand through his hair. "Did you ever feel _anything_ for me?" he asked, staring her down. "Or was it all just a matter of using me for protection? So you could get what you wanted?"

"Caine, I do _like_ you, and I honestly mistook that for love while we were in the FAYZ. But now I just realize that I don't love you, not like you love me, and I don't want to keep leading you on."

"What does that even _mean_?" Caine stressed, confused. "You like me, but you don't trust me. You don't love me _like I love you_? What is _that_ supposed to mean? That you love me like a brother or something? Are you expecting me to still be your friend or something after this? Because honestly, this is the worst break-up speech I've ever heard," he ranted, now angry himself.

"This isn't a break-up speech, Caine. We broke up two days ago," Diana pointed quietly.

"_Agh!_" Caine yelled, kicking one of the chairs as he turned away from her. "Dammit, Diana," he hissed, hand coming up to hide his eyes from the lights, trying to make it look like he was holding his head for a headache.

"Caine," she began gently, trying to stand and come over to him, only her ankle wasn't allowing much hopping and she really didn't want to use crutches just to move the few feet it was to him. She grit her teeth, moving past the pain so she could gently press a hand to his shoulder, feeling him tense.

"You shouldn't be up," he muttered lowly, still not looking at her.

"Caine," she repeated, trying to get him to look at her.

"What?" he spoke lowly, sounding tired. He wouldn't look at her, his hand still covering his eyes.

"Look at me," she murmured, moving gingerly until she was in front of him and could reach up to grab his wrist, pulling it away from his eyes. He focused on something over her shoulder, avoiding her gaze as she took in the twin trails falling from his eyes. "I'm not doing this to hurt you," she spoke quietly, evenly.

"Sure seems that way," he muttered.

"What do you mean?" she asked quietly.

"Out of everyone, Diana, _anyone_, you tell me you like _Drake_. That you trust the guy who's tried to kill you more times than I can count more than me. Do you not remember all that he's done? Have you two just decided to team up against me and see how badly you can hurt me?" he asked her.

"This has never been about hurting you, Caine," she denied, brushing away one wet trail gently, watching brokenly as more silent tears came to replace it.

"How could you have expected this not to hurt me?" he questioned bitterly, looking away again.

"Look, I didn't go into this expecting this to happen. He blindsided me. There's a lot about him that neither of us never bothered to learn," she tried to explain.

"Like what? What could he possible say that could explain away all that he's done?" Caine spat, angrily.

"Caine, he's lonely," she murmured, softly turning his face back until he was looking into her dark eyes. "Don't tell me you don't know what that feels like," she added quietly.

Caine scoffed, pulling his face from her hold though not pulling away from her touch on his shoulder, knowing she probably needed him to keep standing. "So what, that excuses everything? And how does leaving me alone to help him solve anything? All it does it trade his and my places," he accused.

"You're not alone, Caine, not like him," she tried to refute. "You have your parents and friends at your school, and you're going to go to college and make more, I'm sure, and—"

"None of that matters if I don't have you," Caine cut her off. "You think I'm actually close to any of those people? Diana, you're the only person I've ever felt connected to. I love you. Why can't you understand that?" he asked.

Diana sighed, resisting the urge to just hug him and agree. Caine was so hard to deny sometimes, so compelling when he wanted to be.

"I'm beginning to see that you might really love me," she spoke slowly, carefully thinking about her words. "But you have to understand also that I just don't love you like that. I care for you, I want you to be happy and safe, and I want to still hear from you, but I just can't be with you like that anymore."

"Why?" Caine pleaded, wanting an answer, wanting a reason for why she was just walking out of his life after all this time.

"Because of him," she answered simply, meeting his eyes even as they began to be consumed with pain. She had to accept this; she had to accept that she was going to hurt him and get it over quick. Drawing this out would do no good and after having made up with Drake, she _knew_ there was just no way she could go back to how they'd been.

Caine's jaw tensed as his teeth clenched together, trying to save face. Diana figured it probably wasn't the safest move, but she still couldn't stop herself from reaching forward and embracing him, pulling him tightly against her. Caine hid his face against her shoulder and she could feel the wetness dampening her shirt. She didn't comment though, just holding him and knowing there was nothing but time that could heal the wound she'd just so viciously made.

"I'm not giving up," he murmured after a while, arms wrapped around her waist lightly as he spoke into her shoulder.

Diana sighed. "I know you won't," she admitted. "But I wish you would."

"You know I can't accept losing to him so simply," he answered, quietly speaking the words against the bare skin of her throat, giving her goosebumps.

"Yeah, I know," she agreed. "Though, considering how this is likely to end…all of this might be for naught," she added.

Caine had no words for that, knowing it was true. Even he was bit surprised by what 'justice' they were going for, he couldn't honestly say it wouldn't be his gain in the end. Even if by such means, he'd still accept a win as a win and Diana would definitely be his if the FBI got what they wanted.

"You shouldn't be on your leg," Caine spoke finally, quickly wiping off his face before moving to once again help Diana into the seat. She rolled her eyes.

"You'd think I was made of glass or something. I just sprained my ankle, Caine. Nothing crazy."

"Either way, you don't need to make it worse," he noted, smiling slightly at the mild return to normality. He took the seat beside her, sitting in relative silence as they waited.

"Who else do you think they're bringing?" Diana asked, curiously.

"Who knows? Could be anyone from the FAYZ. They'll probably bring Sam and Astrid, though. Maybe Edilio and Brianna too. Dekka maybe? Or Lana?"

"So we're going to have a FAYZ reunion. How great," Diana muttered. "And everyone's going to be celebrating," she added bitterly.

"You would have once too," he added, slouching in his seat.

She sighed. "This is so stupid. Why now?" she grumbled.

"I'm not all that surprised actually," he shrugged at her look. "I mean, you can't have expected them to just let him off, considering everything we told them about what he's done."

"We did bad things too," she noted.

"Yes, but not a lot of people know about those, do they?" he smirked.

"Because anyone that was involved, you killed," she growled.

"See? That's the difference between Drake and I. I don't leave loose ends," Caine pointed out, just before the door opened and a girl entered. She scowled at seeing them both.

"Oh you've got to be kidding me. What are _you_ doing here?" she growled towards them both.

"Well hello to you too, Brianna," Caine acknowledged.

"What do you _think_ we're going here?" Diana grumbled unhappily. Brianna grinned suddenly.

"Ah, so you're here for the good of the cause, huh? Guess I can accept your presences then, considering how helpful you're bound to be." She shrugged, walking to take a seat down from them.

"Good of the cause…?" Diana repeated quietly, hollowly. Caine eyed her warily, wondering if she was going to snap and attack Brianna. As entertaining as that was bound to be, it probably wasn't the best idea what with all the federal agents out and about.

The door opened again and another girl and a guy walked in. The former paused, staring at Brianna with barely concealed surprised while the boy grinned with obvious relief, moving further into the room.

"Oh thank God you're here," Brianna stated, grabbing Jack's hand and pulling him into the seat next to her. Caine noted how she'd neglected to even look at Dekka. "I thought I was going to be stuck with these two," she complained, gesturing to Caine and Diana.

Dekka moved silently into the room, sitting a few seats down from Caine and on the opposite side of the room from Brianna and Jack. Caine idly wondered why there was no chairs set up on the wall opposite of them, though he didn't get much time to wonder as the door opened once more.

Five people filed into the room, none of them looking happy. Penny stalked in first, Bug following, with a reluctant Sam stepping in then, and Astrid behind him. Lana moved into the room like a ghost, not looking at any of them and taking a seat quietly near Brianna while everyone else decided to stand.

"Guess the gang's all here then," Caine commented, meeting Sam's uncertain gaze with a slight nod.

"What the hell's going on?" Penny demanded, a timid looking Bug following her like a shadow as he eyed the others uncertainly. Caine raised a brow at her.

"They didn't tell you?" he questioned.

"They just said they needed us to testify about the FAYZ," Astrid spoke up, turning to him. "Why don't you explain what they've told you," she added with a frown.

And just like that, every pair of eyes—with the exception of the pair belonging to the girl next to him—turned to him expectantly. His eyes widened in shock, looking to them all.

"You mean that's all they've told you?" he questioned, surprised. What kind of shady investigation was this?

"Yeah, so why don't you share with the class?" Penny growled, clearly annoyed.

Diana spoke quietly then, all of them turning to her. "They want us all to testify in a trail for Drake's execution."

**-break-**

Drake fidgeted in the seat in the interrogation room that he'd been left alone in. He'd been here for a while now—though he wasn't sure how long—and he could feel the nerves eating him. _Execution_, Agent Michaels had said. He felt his hand shaking, fisting it to try and keep everything outwardly steadily. It was one thing to go down in a fight, but to be put down like a no-good dog…

He tried to shake the thoughts away, eyes instead focusing on the mirror in front of him, his reflection staring back at him blankly. Honestly, he looked horrible. Dark shadows were still around his eyes, the scratches adorning his face and peeking out between his long bangs—the doctor said they'd basically scabbed over and as long as Drake didn't pick at them he didn't have to wear the stupid looking bandage on his head—his face had a slight gaunt look about it, making him look pretty pathetic, if he did say so himself. He sighed, running his hand through his long locks, making himself momentarily mad at just how long they were, before propping his chin up in his palm with a loud exhale.

A moment later, the door opened and he looked towards it, watching as the agent from before walked in carrying a rather thick looking file.

_Guess it's about to begin_, he thought to himself, sitting up straight and emptying his face of any expression.

**-break-**

"Alright, since everyone's here, we're about to begin," an agent spoke, sticking his head into the waiting room. He smiled kindly at everyone as they all looked towards him. "You can watch it through that," he motioned to the mirror, moving to flip a switch beside it. There was mixed reactions as the mirror dissolved to reveal itself to be a one-way mirror, the sight that was revealed to them being a pale and sick-looking boy sitting at a table alone. "I'll be back after the interrogation," the agent dismissed himself, exiting the room.

"Who's that?" Penny questioned, nose curling in disgust as she eyed the ill-looking boy.

Diana was oddly silent, just letting them figure it out on their own. Caine, picking up on what she was doing, just went along with it, remembering his own shock at seeing Drake as he was now after so long.

"He doesn't look healthy," Astrid noted, face frowning in sympathy. Sam's eyes had gone wide from the very moment the boy had been revealed and he was both tense and quiet. Diana, observing this, noted that he'd probably recognized him instantly. Of course, that's just how fear works. You never could forget the one you were absolutely terrified of, and Sam certainly had a reason to be terrified of Drake.

Dekka took in the new boy carefully, able to put together that it must be Drake but her mind just not able to connect the pale, ill looking boy in front of her with the demonic terror from the FAYZ. This boy looked exhausted and beaten, his face scratched up, his eyes surrounded by dark rings, his cheeks hollow. The clothes he was wearing were baggy on his frame and her eyes widened as she took in the lack of a right arm. No, this could not be Drake, the arrogant, powerful whip-handed monster.

"Do they not feed their patients? Like seriously, he looks like he'd break with one hit," Brianna noted. "They should give the guy a sandwich or something."

Diana nearly snorted at that, holding in her incredulous laughter. She could understand not instantly recognizing him, but he was still obviously Drake and there was no way Breeze would have been saying that if she'd known who it was.

"Looks familiar," Jack noted, frowning as he studied the boy. Diana couldn't believe just how hopeless they all were. Did no one seriously recognize him?

"Are all of you blind? It's Drake," Lana spoke up for the first time, eyes not wavering from her glare at the oblivious boy at the opposite side of the mirror.

"What?" Penny questioned, looking back for a moment, studying. Then she grinned, laughing nastily. "Ha! It is him!" she deemed.

"Seriously?" Brianna breathed, eyes wide in disbelief. She'd just felt pity…for _Drake_.

Suddenly, Drake moved, seeming to focus his attention and stare right at Sam, whose eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights. They all became quiet, wondering if it was in fact a one-way mirror as they'd assumed. But then Drake just sighed, closing his eyes and looking tired as he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at the locks roughly. Then he propped his head up on the desk with his hand, looking through bored, half-lidded eyes at the mirror. Suddenly though his attention shifted, turning to the right as an agent came into their view.

"Mr. Merwin," the agent spoke, sitting down a large file he was carrying before leaning against the table, looking down at Drake. The boy huffed, raising a brow but not answering verbally. "I'm sure you know why you're here," he added. Drake hummed, acting bored while every cell in his body sat on edge. Surely they wouldn't really execute him, right? That hardly ever actually happened, right?

"Then let's get on to business," the agent began, eyeing Drake warily. "Surely you've been informed by now that the hearing you went to over a year ago was, in fact, just that: a preliminary hearing, not a trial. Thus, as you were found unfit to face charges, you were placed in psychiatric care. However, due to the observations of one Dr. Raymond who's come to think you're beginning to be fit for society, you can understand why we're all a bit suspicious as to how a murderer could become well so quickly."

Drake didn't respond, once again. Every teen in the room adjacent to the interview room was watching with baited breath, all surprised by what was bring revealed.

"After all, sadism is apparently incurable, yet you're showing signs of improving after only a year when it's known that you've had some form of psychiatric care all through your life since you were five. Why is it suddenly working now? Maybe because you're actually locked up now and you don't think it's fun? So you'd thought you'd make a mockery of our legal system, pretend to be worse than you are and then fake get better, thinking you could just waltz back into the community without owning up to your crimes." The man leaned over the table suddenly, getting in a scowling Drake's face. "But we're not going to let you do that," he promised lowly.

"Get out of my face," Drake growled lowly, eyes flashing coldly. Diana's heart stopped at his voice, noticing how everyone else in the room seemed to tense with the addition of his voice as well. The hatred, the anger…all of that was still there. If there had been any doubt, the purely Drake growl had surely put those at rest. This was Drake Merwin, and they would all damned-well remember that.

"Or what? Are you going to attack me too, sadist?" the agent mocked him, eyes glaring at the cold orbs evenly. Drake's lip curled up in anger, just like a predator baring its teeth in a threat.

"Get. Out. Of. My. Face," Drake demanded haltingly, teeth clenched together.

"Go ahead, boy. Hit me. See if that clears your name," the agent mocked him, not backing up in the least.

Drake instead clenched his eyes shut, trying to block out the anger and the agent's voice. He had to calm down. He couldn't just attack a federal agent. That was just asking to be executed and he didn't want that.

"Don't I get a lawyer?" he gritted out, opening his eyes to glare at the agent who'd finally backed off a bit. He raised his brow.

"Do you think you deserve one?" he questioned.

Drake growled, fist clenching angrily as he chanted in his head, _'federal agent, execution, federal agent, execution_.'

"I'm not answering any questions until you bring me my lawyer," Drake stated simply, forcing himself to at least look like he'd taken up an air of nonchalance as he leaned back in the chair, shutting his eyes and leaning his head back against the rest and hoping this guy didn't try to slit his throat.

"Oh, you're going to talk," the agent growled, slamming his hand on the table, trying to get the boy to look at him again. Drake clenched his teeth, forcing himself not to react. "Otherwise, we're going to go ask some of your friends."

Drake really tried not to react, honestly he did, but he didn't have any friends and he had no idea who this guy was talking about. Plus, he wasn't entirely sure whoever it was hadn't just been threatened with torture; this guy seemed pretty hardcore. And since there was still a few people he didn't want to come to harm anymore because of him—well, really only one—he figured he should probably at least see what was going on.

"What are you talking about?" Drake demanded, sitting up and staring down the older man coolly.

"I'm talking about all your friends from the FAYZ. They're all right through here, waiting for their turn to testify in favor of your execution," he drawled, knocking at the mirror lightly. Drake's eyes widened. A one-way mirror then. That meant they were watching him now. But who was 'they'? 'Friends' from the FAYZ? That would have to include Caine…maybe Sam too. Diana wouldn't be there though, right? Surely she wouldn't testify in favor of him being executed, not after everything they'd been through…right?

"Shit, he looks seriously worried," Penny noted with malicious glee, grinning from her seat as she watching the interrogation.

"Shut the hell up, Penny," Diana hissed angrily, not even sparing the girl a glance. Penny, however, did deem Diana worth a glare, turning to her.

"And what's your problem, Princess? You of all people should be glad they're getting rid of the dragon. Now you and your darling prince will be able to ride into the sunset without any loose ends," she mocked callously.

"Riding off with the prince," Caine mused aloud, before chuckling without humor, smiling self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, not going to happen anytime soon."

"Don't tell me you two are going through a rough patch," Penny rolled her eyes mockingly. "Oh, what happened? You pick the wrong movie for movie night, Caine?"

"The princess decided she liked the dragon more," Caine answered simply, face blank as he glared at Drake. Penny's—and really everyone's—eyes widened in total shock.

"What?" Astrid asked in surprised.

"You've got to be kidding me," Brianna agreed.

"No-fucking-way!" Penny nearly yelled. No one was really paying attention to the interrogation anymore, that was for sure. "Are you serious?" She laughed out loud then. "Serves you right, Caine!" she mocked, earning a glower from said teen. "But seriously, I just can't believe that. It's too out there!"

"Not really," Dekka muttered, looking with bored eyes at the interrogation that she could no longer hear thanks to Penny's loud mouth.

"Yeah, I'm not all that surprised either," Jack spoke up, shrugging.

"What are all of you talking about?" Caine hissed, annoyed. How could they have seen it coming and he hadn't?

"Yeah," Brianna added, turning to Jack suspiciously. He suddenly looked nervous. Even Diana was paying attention now, wondering how Jack and Dekka had been able to see it before even she and Drake had.

"Well, they've always seemed to be on the same wavelength, you know?" Jack tried.

"Like even when they hated each other, they could still have a whole conversation just by glaring at each other," Dekka offered, earning a thankful smile from Jack.

"Not to mention how fixated Drake is on Diana," Astrid adding, seemingly coming over to their side in the argument. "It makes sense when you consider his sadism playing its part in that. Of course any crush he'd form would be distorted."

"But he tried to kill her," Sam stressed, looking at Astrid in surprise.

"Thank you, brother," Caine nodded coolly. "My point exactly. But no one wants to listen to me, the voice of reason," he grumbled, sending Diana a pointed look.

"We've already had this discussion, Caine. Twice now. Three times if you count the cell phone call that made me wreck," she sighed, tiredly.

"Explains the crutches," Lana noted idly, eyeing Diana with a seemingly new light.

"So why are you here then?" Brianna asked. "If you like him—which is still just crazy, by the way—then you're not seriously going to testify for his execution, are you?"

"They'll charge me with contempt of court if I don't," she muttered unhappily, slouching in her seat unhappily.

"Would you _back the hell off_?"

They all paused in their discussion, turning towards the mirror to see Drake glaring in the agent's face, looking very close to exploding.

"Am I making you angry, Merwin?" the agent taunted.

"What are you trying to prove? What a prick you are? That you can make me angry? What's your game?" Drake demanded, growling.

Finally, the agent moved away, humming, while a slight smile crossed his features and he stood a respectable distance away, leaning against the table and watching Drake.

"Seems you're not going to hit me," he commented.

"I'm not an idiot," Drake growled, glaring at him.

The agent's smirk only became more pronounced.

"What?" Drake demanded, eyes narrowing.

"It's just, a mentally unsound person wouldn't be worried with the consequences of their actions. If you were in fact insane, you would have attack me the first time I got in your face, not tried to get me to bring you a lawyer and refrained from acting out any violence. That, to me, seems like someone capable of sane thought," he mused aloud.

Drake stiffened, staring at him in shock. "Are you telling me that because I _didn't _smash your face in, that _that's_ your proof as me being fine?"

"It's going to be part of it," the agent nodded, before reaching for the file on the desk. "Though this is going to be the majority of our proof. This and your friends' testimonies, that is."

"Go to hell," Drake seethed.

"I think you'll be going there a lot sooner than I will, boy," the agent stated coldly before exiting the room briskly.

**So yeah, post-chappie notes:**

**1) Yes, I brought back more of the gang :)**

**2) Yes, Penny's technically dead at the end of _Fear_, but I want her here so...yeah. My fic, my rules. Also, since I can't remember anything that happened in concerns to the meeting, we're going to pretend like Penny and Drake never met up in _Fear_ either. In fact, why don't we just discount most of _Fear? _I mostly remember through _Plague_ and reference things from there anyways. So, timeline switch: story now set like the FAYZ ended after _Plague._  
**

**3) Just to let you know, I'll be referring to Brianna mostly as Brianna. Why? Well, they're not in the FAYZ anymore so she's not the Breeze anymore.**


End file.
